Cut and Run
by Chirugal
Summary: NCIS without Abby is as foreign a concept as a desert without sand. Gibbs/Abby, in progress. Rating has changed!
1. Bombshell

**Title**: Cut and Run  
**Rating**: PG-13 for now  
**Spoilers**: None in the first chapter – will warn if there are later on.  
**Summary**: NCIS without Abby is as foreign a concept as a desert without sand.

**Author's Note**: I really gotta stop starting new fics. XD

* * *

"Okay, final test. Can you set the Major going with this sample?"

Gibbs slows his pace at the words, and the male voice that answers. Abby never lets anyone touch her mass spectrometer – it's the piece of equipment she's most protective of; a fact that anyone who's worked with her for more than a week is aware of. Something's not right; he can feel it in his gut.

Rounding the corner, he halts a few feet away from the scene unfolding in front of him. Abby's standing next to her machine, watching a guy he's never seen before insert something into it. Neither of them notices his arrival; they're too absorbed in the work to register his footsteps.

"You gotta angle it a little downward on the right hand-" Abby breaks off as the guy slides the sample home, surprise in her eyes. "Whoa. How did you know?"

"The machine in my college lab had the same problem. Guess I just got used to it," he replies, shrugging.

"Looks like I'm leaving my babies in good hands," Abby says with a small smile, watching him press the buttons to start the sample running.

Gibbs clears his throat, deciding he's eavesdropped for long enough, and both she and her guest look up instantly. The man's face registers only curiosity, but Abby's eyes widen, and she twists her fingers together in front of her nervously.

Looks as though his gut was right.

"Hey, Gibbs." Her voice is falsely bright as she looks from him to her lab partner. "Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, this is Simon Chang. He's gonna be filling in for me while I'm away."

The guy – Simon – holds out his hand for Gibbs to shake, but the agent is too busy staring Abby out. "_Away_?"

Awkwardly dropping his hand back to his side, Simon looks over at Abby with obvious confusion. "He doesn't know?"

"He does now," she murmurs, almost to herself. "But I gotta get you back to Director Vance's office. Gibbs, can you wait here one second?"

"It's okay," Simon interjects, before he can reply. "I remember the way. Elevator, fourth floor, straight ahead, right?"

"Are you sure?" she asks anxiously, watching him strip off the lab coat he's wearing. "I don't wanna just abandon you-"

"Don't worry, I got it." The guy smiles. "Talk to you later. And it was nice to meet you," he adds to Gibbs, although that's gotta be a lie, considering that Gibbs has barely acknowledged his presence.

Once he's left the lab, Gibbs asks, "'Away' where?"

She scuffs a foot against the floor, not meeting his eyes. "Edinburgh. Scotland. I'm going there to study."

"For how long?" he demands. She makes no reply, and he moves into her personal space, employing one of the techniques he uses to get answers from suspects without thinking. "A week? A month? How-"

"Two years." Her quiet answer cuts across his words, as defiant as her eyes as she meets his stare. "I'm renting a room from Ducky's niece, and finishing my doctorate at Edinburgh University."

The answer stuns him into silence, and he can only stare after her as she spins and walks into her inner office, her shoulders tense. NCIS without Abby seems as foreign a concept to him as a desert without sand, and it takes him a few moments to absorb the information. When he can move again, he follows her into her ballistics lab, finding her reassembling a Smith & Wesson .22 with practised efficiency.

"When were you gonna tell me?"

"As soon as Director Vance approved my choice of replacement," she says shortly, dropping the gun into its evidence bag and notating something on the chain of evidence voucher. "So, tonight."

As she makes to move past him again, he grabs her arm, bringing her up short. "Why, Abby?" he asks, searching her face for an answer he can't find. "Why can't you study here?"

Incredulity fills her face, and she shakes him off, continuing on her way. "Because I work sixteen hour days, Gibbs! I don't have time to research and write my thesis and get your results all at the same time – I barely have enough time to breathe as it is!"

"I mean in the US. Why does it have to be Scotland?" He struggles to understand; confusion and alarm give his voice a sharp edge he doesn't intend it to have. "Two years without seeing your friends, your family? Us?"

By 'us', he means himself, but he's never been the type to lay his emotions bare. If she'd been looking up at him at that moment, she'd have seen the raw pain in his expression and known how much her impending absence affects him. But she doesn't; she's too focused on evading his questions.

"Because if I stay here, I'll keep working for NCIS. I'll visit during term breaks, now and then. I just need to get this done now, or I never will."

Gibbs steps into her path, putting his hands gently on her shoulders. She swallows, her eyes gleaming with unshed tears, and stares fixedly at his shirt, refusing to meet his eyes.

"You never mentioned needing to get away before, Abbs. What brought this on, huh?" He keeps his tone as gentle as he can make it, resisting the urge to enfold her in his arms and keep her there.

She doesn't answer, and before he can push her, one of her machines chirps. She spins to answer its call, scrubbing at her eyes with the back of her hand, and he grants her the respite, waiting until she's finished noting down her findings to ask the most important question of all.

"When do you leave?"

"Monday," she says, her hands busy opening the next evidence bag.

It's six days away, and he's not ready to lose her yet. Torn between demanding that she tell him the real reason she's running away and nursing his wounds like a defeated animal, he chooses the latter. When she turns around, his name on her lips, he's nowhere to be seen.


	2. Magnolia

**Author's Note**: I decided to go slightly spoilery for season seven's _Borderland_ - you have been warned! And anyone hoping for a fluffy resolution in this chapter is going to be disappointed... sorry! XD

* * *

Gibbs takes an early lunch break to sort through the new information Abby's given him. No matter how many angles he looks at it, he can't make sense of her decision, and by the time he returns to the squad room, he's still no closer to working it out.

He's been back at his desk for five minutes or so when Tony leans back in his chair, looking from him to McGee to Ziva, and back again. "What the…? Have you guys seen Abby's email?"

"No, why?" As McGee calls up the electronic message, Gibbs moves around to stand behind him – he doesn't use the damn program.

"'Hey, everyone,'" McGee reads aloud, more for Gibbs' benefit than his own. "'Really sorry for the impersonal email, but I figured it'd be better this way than if I told one person and ended up with rumours all over the Navy Yard.

"'As of Friday, I'll be taking a two-year sabbatical from my job here to go and study in the UK-' What? Two years? Did anyone know about this?"

Ziva and Tony are staring at their own computer screens, answering his question without speaking. McGee turns to look up at Gibbs, dismayed. "Boss, we gotta talk to her. I mean, she loves her job! This is Abby; she wouldn't just…"

"Her decision, McGee. None of our business." Suppressing a sigh, Gibbs scans the rest of the email's text, naming Simon Chang her temporary replacement and adding that she'll be heading straight to the local bar after work on Friday night, if anyone feels like joining her.

As one, McGee, Tony and Ziva head for the elevator, bound for Abby's lab. Gibbs watches them go, hoping they'll succeed in persuading her to stay, but at the same time doubting it. If it was a decision she was willing to be talked out of, she'd have mentioned it before now.

* * *

His resolution was to let Abby live her own life – make her own choices – without trying to sway her decisions. It lasts until he gets home from work, where two courses of action present themselves.

The first – to spend the night brooding in his basement, trying to work out how long Abby's been plotting this and drinking more than he should – is the option he should pick. That way, he doesn't start an argument he has no hope of winning.

But although he sheds his work suit in favour of tattered blue jeans and one of his ancient Corps shirts, and descends into his basement – dungeon-like, Abby once called it – he doesn't stay there.

Less than an hour later, he's buzzing up to Abby's apartment, and her voice answers the intercom a little breathlessly. "Yeah?"

"It's me."

She hesitates, the pause speaking volumes, and then tells him, "Come on up."

He pushes through the door into the foyer and takes the steps to her first-floor apartment two at a time. Her door is open a tiny crack, and her usual cacophonous music spills out from within, if at a lower volume than usual.

Gibbs takes the hint and pushes open the door without knocking, only to pause in the middle of closing it behind him, taking in the state of the room.

It's been a while since he visited Abby here – six months, probably more – and he winces inwardly. _Shouldn't have left it so long. Especially since she found out about Hernandez._ Last time he stopped by, the room was decorated in typical Abby style, managing to be Gothic and modern at the same time; dark, yet spacious and comfortable.

The two comfortable couches are gone, as are the bookcases crammed with textbooks, paperbacks, movies, videogames and trinkets she's accumulated over the years. The only furniture in the open-plan living room is an armchair draped with dust-sheets, and the floor is obscured in places by more sheets and plastic tarp.

Against one once-violet wall, Abby is halfway up a stepladder, in the process of applying a second coating of magnolia-coloured paint.

"Abbs?"

She gets down from the ladder carefully, setting her roller back in its tray and looking a little sheepish. "Hi."

"Doing a little home improvement?" The words come out a little more dryly than he means them to, but of all the things he was expecting, this wasn't it.

"My tenancy is up next week," she explains. "When I moved in, the landlord said I could redecorate as long as I made sure everything was back the way I found it when I left."

Gibbs nods, taking a seat on the edge of the armchair while she moves past him to the kitchen. "You want coffee?"

While she busies herself in the barely furnished kitchen, he picks up the roller and continues where she left off, occupying himself the only way he can. When she returns, holding a mug of coffee in each hand, she gives a wan smile. "You didn't have to do that."

"To cover a colour this dark, you're gonna need three coats, at least. Figured I might as well pitch in." The conversation is awkward and familiar all at once, and he feels a pang at the way things are right now.

Abby hands him a mug, her fingers brushing his for an instant. She draws away quickly, cupping her own mug in both hands and sitting on the bottom step of the ladder. "Have a seat."

Protesting about the seating arrangement would be fruitless; she was raised a good Southern girl, and guests to her apartment always get the best seat. He takes the armchair, watching her sip her creamy coffee.

After a moment, he asks, "Where's all your stuff?"

"In storage, or on its way to Edinburgh. It was tough deciding what to take," she admits, and he can't help but smile as he imagines the complicated system she must have devised to figure out what her essentials are.

As she takes another sip of coffee, she rubs her cheek absently, leaving a streak of paint behind. Gibbs points it out to her, knowing that if it dries it'll be harder for her to remove.

"Oops." With a self-conscious smile, she touches her paint-free cheek. He shakes his head, reaching for a rag on the floor and stepping in closer.

"Hold still." Abby closes her eyes as he gently wipes the paint from her cheekbone, his free hand supporting her head. When it's gone, he drops his arms to his sides, and her eyes, so close to his, flick open.

He's never noticed the striking shade of green before, and she averts her gaze before he can think of anything else, stepping back with a murmured thanks.

Gibbs sits down again, rescuing his mug from the floor and taking a sip. "Got much painting left to do?"

Abby shakes her head. "Just another coat on this wall, and I'm done. If I had another roller, I'd put you to work."

"Shoulda said. Would've brought mine."

She gives him one of her patented _You're kidding, right?_ looks, as if letting him know about her decorating project before now would be ridiculous. "You didn't call before you came over."

_You would have told me you were going out, if I had._ He doesn't say the words, taking a less confrontational approach. "How long you been planning this, Abbs?"

She scratches at a paint stain on her denim overalls, shrugging. "I dunno. A while, I guess."

The question nags at him, and he voices it – in six days, she won't be here to ask. "Before or after you went to Mexico?"

Abby's eyes widen, and she shakes her head, her plaited pigtails flying. "Before. This has nothing to do with Hernandez, Gibbs. Don't even think that."

Nodding, he takes another sip of scalding coffee, comforted by the acerbic taste. "When?"

Abby shrugs. "Somewhere between last year and now? I didn't mark it on the calendar."

"Why are you blocking me?" He stares her out until she sets down her coffee cup, picks up her paint roller and ascends the ladder again.

"Why do you need to pin down the exact moment that I decided I wanted to go back to school?" she asks, scrubbing at the wall, her back to him.

He doesn't know, exactly. All he knows is that his gut tells him he's missing something. "Cause it's uncharacteristic?" he says, his voice a little rough from the swallow of coffee he's just taken.

"You don't need to worry about me. I'm a big girl. I'm not acting under duress. I just wanna learn new stuff and take a break from all this…" She waves her hand vaguely, trailing off.

"'All this' what?"

She glances over her shoulder at him with an expression that's almost sorrowful, then returns to her task. "If you don't know what I'm talking about, then there's no point in me explaining it to you."

Frustrated, Gibbs demands, "How about you actually give me something I can understand? Passive aggressive doesn't suit you, Abby."

Her eyebrows shoot up for one wounded second, and then her eyes narrow and her jaw sets. Glaring down at him from the top of the ladder, she gives him hell. "_Passive aggressive_? Is that what you think this is? I make a decision you don't like, and you come around here to interrogate me like one of your suspects. Is there a convenient box I can put _that_ behaviour into?"

Throwing up her hands with a wordless cry of disgust, she grabs her paint roller again and sets to work, her movements fuelled by anger.

He might be missing a piece of this puzzle, but he knows when to back off. "Abbs…"

She ignores him. After a moment, he sighs, lays a conciliatory hand on her calf – the most easily accessible part of her right now – and leaves her to cool down.

_Shoulda stayed in the basement…_


	3. Drinks

**Author's Note**: Here's a little more. :) Thanks for sticking with me!

* * *

The rest of the week passes far too quickly for Gibbs' liking.

An uneasy peace has settled between he and Abby – he visits her lab as normal, listens to her babble and hands over Caf-Pow! rewards, but there's a reserved edge between them. He analyses her constantly, attempting to figure out the reason for her decision to leave. She's well aware of that fact, and pointedly ignores it. Neither of them acknowledges the conversation they had at her apartment.

Friday dawns bright and clear, a direct antithesis to Gibbs' mood. When he visits Abby's lab sometime mid-morning, there are balloons, teddy bears, black roses and Caf-Pow! cups strewn everywhere; Abby is popular amongst her colleagues.

"That's a lot of Caf-Pow!," Gibbs remarks, setting his offering down at the edge of the congregation of super-sized cups.

Abby propels herself across the room on her desk chair, picks up the cup he's just put down, and takes a sip. "Each and every one appreciated, but yours more than most."

Biting back a smile, he pushes her back behind her desk, then leans over her shoulder. "What do you got?"

"You mean, aside from enough Caf-Pow! to keep me awake until Christmas?" She shoots him a quick grin, then focuses. "Carpet fibres."

He listens to the cadence of her voice as she reports her findings; the way it speeds up as she goes off-topic, or too far _into_ the topic; the gravelly, amused undertones and the slightly incredulous lilts. On one level, he still can't come to terms with the fact that, come Monday, she won't be here; that he'll obtain his reports from a stranger.

"Nice work, Abbs." He leans in and kisses her cheek, because it might be the last time.

As he turns to leave, she speaks his name, and he hesitates, looking back at her. "Are you coming out with us after work?" she asks tentatively, as if afraid he'll turn the invitation down.

He nods. "For the couple of hours before you move on to the clubs."

Her smile is a little regretful. "You know me too well."

Choosing not to remind her that he still can't fathom her reason for leaving, Gibbs resumes his path to the elevator.

* * *

Half the Navy Yard turns out for Abby's farewell drinks. When she's not mingling, hugging well-wishing colleagues goodbye and accepting free drinks, she sticks close to Gibbs and his team.

"Is it just me, or does Abby seem more… sad to be leaving than happy?" Tony watches her thoughtfully, and the rest of the team follow his line of vision.

"It is hard to leave so many friends and colleagues behind," Ziva says, taking a sip of her mojito.

"Once she gets out there, she'll be fine," Ducky agrees. "It can be hard to remember one's reasons for a decision, when facing the negative consequences."

"Gonna miss her," Palmer says, and on that point, everyone agrees.

Gibbs just sips his bourbon and listens to the conversation around him.

"Boss is quiet," McGee murmurs, when he thinks Gibbs is out of earshot. "Think he's taking Abby's decision harder than any of us."

"They've known each other almost as long as Jethro and I have," Ducky says. "It's hardly surprising."

As Gibbs predicted earlier in the day, after a couple of hours Abby announces she's moving on to a club around the corner. Most people choose to bid her farewell at this point, and for a while Gibbs can't even make her out through the crowd of agents and support staff. After a while, only a small group of Navy Yard employees remain, including Ziva, Tony, McGee and Palmer. Gibbs and Ducky are the last to bid Abby farewell.

"Ducky…" Her eyes are full of tears as she gives him a tight squeeze. "Thank you for _everything_. I don't know what I would have done without you and Emma."

"Make the most of it, and give that niece of mine a hug from me, my dear." Ducky smiles up at her fondly.

"I will." Rubbing moisture from her eyes, she looks over at Gibbs, and he steps forward to pull her into a hug without stopping to think about it, stroking her hair as a sob escapes her chest.

"Need a lift to the airport?" he asks, as she draws back.

She seems surprised that he's offered, and nods, after a second's pause. "Thanks, Gibbs."

After another round of hugs and a few more tears, she's ready to move on. Together, Ducky and Gibbs watch Abby leave the bar, and the rest of the agents follow her, until they're the only two left.

"Another drink, Jethro?"

"Wouldn't say no, Duck."

Together, they return to the booth they've been sitting at, and Gibbs raises an eyebrow. "You know I'm gonna ask."

Sighing, Ducky sips his Scotch. "I thought it'd be sooner, to be perfectly honest. Go on, then. Ask."

"Do you know why she's leaving?"

Ducky shakes his head slowly. "Of all the questions, that's the one I'm least sure of the answer to. I did ask her, but I never got a straight answer."

"When did she come to you?" Gibbs asks.

"Six months ago, give or take. She was asking a lot of questions about Edinburgh University; its reputation, its night-life… When she got around to telling me she'd been accepted there, I was rather surprised."

Irritated, Gibbs demands, "And you never got around to telling me because-?"

"She asked me not to. And contrary to your team's belief, Jethro, it's not your business to know everything that goes on."

"She's one of my people."

"She didn't want you to know. She didn't want _any_ of you to know." Ducky shakes his head ruefully. "If not for my connection to Edinburgh, I doubt she would have let me in on it, either."

"Why would she go behind our backs? Abby's not the type to make big decisions quietly, and we both know it." Gibbs downs his bourbon, frustrated, and leans back in his seat. "She's hiding something, Duck."

"That would be my assessment, as well," Ducky muses, inspecting the dregs of his drink as if they hold the answers he seeks. "But I'd venture that it's for personal reasons, rather than anything more ominous or questionable. Don't get the bit between your teeth with this one, Jethro. You'll only make her more stubborn."

"That your psychological analysis?"

"Partly analysis, and partly my gut." Ducky smiles slightly as Gibbs rolls his eyes. "You're not the only one with instincts, lest you forget."

Gibbs nods, conceding the point, and asks the most important question. "Think she'll come back to us?"

"Well… two years is a long time, and Edinburgh is a lively place. But I think our Abigail has a strong sense of home, and NCIS is very important to her."

"Not important enough," Gibbs murmurs.


	4. Promise Me

**Author's Note**: Here's another chapter - a bit of a tough one to write, but hopefully I managed without going too sentimental... Thanks, as always, to everyone who's read this far. :)

* * *

It's a bleary-eyed, under-caffeinated Abby that answers the door on Monday morning, and as she steps back to let him in, she smothers a yawn with her hand. "Hey, Gibbs."

"You okay?" She's usually so chipper in the mornings that seeing her this way is cause for concern.

"Partying all weekend," she mumbles, shuffling over to the sleeping bag that lies on the floor and beginning to roll it up. "Coffeemaker's already in Scotland. I was using my neighbour's in the meantime, and I gave it back yesterday. Didn't think it through."

Suppressing a smile, Gibbs looks around the almost empty room. One giant suitcase and an overnight bag make up the luggage she needs to take on her flight. As he watches, she drops into a crouch, rolls up the sleeping bag to an impossibly small size, and then stuffs it into her suitcase.

One sleepy, futile tussle with the zipper on the case later, she looks up at him pleadingly. "Can you… maybe… help me get this shut?"

"Sit on it," Gibbs recommends, crouching beside her. "Could probably transport _you _to Scotland in this, Abbs."

She smiles sadly, sitting cross-legged on the case so that her legs don't impede the path of the zipper. "Can't really watch the in-flight movie from in there."

Gibbs guides the zipper home with an effort, his arm accidentally nudging Abby's knee. She jerks away as if she's been burned – definitely not a usual Abby reaction to being touched.

"Caf-Pow! in my car, if you want it," he tells her, straightening up.

She scrambles off the case immediately, holding out her hand for his keys. "Be right back."

While she's gone, Gibbs wanders through the empty apartment, devoid of traces of the woman who's lived here for years. The furniture that remains was supplied by the landlord, and most of it has been hidden away under throws or held in storage.

It's not Abby's home any more, and it's the last time either of them will set foot here. Without her in the room, it could be anywhere.

"I'm gonna miss Caf-Pow!," Abby sighs, leaning against the doorframe. Already, she seems more awake, buoyed up on a cocktail of caffeine and sugar. "I mean, they still have Red Bull and Relentless over there, so I'm not going completely cold turkey, but…"

"It'll still be here, when you get back." The hesitation before the word _when_ is intentional; an emphasis.

"It will." Her eyes are distressed, and Gibbs crosses the room to place his hands on her shoulders.

"Abby." She blinks at him, waiting, and he looks intently into her face, attempting to scope out what she's hiding. "Promise me that you're not in any trouble. That someone's not gonna fly out after you and try to hurt you while I can't get to you."

For a second, she seems bewildered, but then her slight frown smoothes out, and her lips curve a little. "Gibbs…"

"Promise me, Abbs, or the only place I'm driving you is to my place…"

"Huh?" It's half-question, half-laugh.

"…where you will stay," Gibbs continues, "until you've found a new apartment here in DC."

She rolls her eyes and tries to turn away, but he doesn't release her shoulders. "Humour me. _Without_ glossing over the truth."

Abby sighs. "I promise. I'm not running scared. I'm not fleeing the country to avoid the law, or the IRS, or a psycho ex."

"Just personal demons," he finishes, hoping to irritate some honesty out of her.

She pulls away again, and this time, he lets her. "Stop pushing, Gibbs. We already talked about this."

"Just wanna make sure that you're safe, Abbs." The sentiment emerges so quietly that he's not sure she's heard it. She takes a second to react, looking over her shoulder at him with tear-filled eyes, then away again.

"I know you do."

Silence falls between them for long moments, while she stares at the floor. Gibbs is the first to break it.

"C'mon. Don't want you to miss your flight."

* * *

He waits while she checks in her baggage, and walks her as far as he can. She's uncharacteristically silent, but since last week, she's been nothing _but_ uncharacteristic.

They reach the security checkpoint and come to a stop. "Guess this is it," Abby says, fidgeting.

"Wish you weren't going," he says softly.

Abby swallows hard. "I'll be back before you know it."

He initiates the hug before she can. "Gonna miss you."

"I'll miss you, too," she whispers, clinging to him.

When she pulls back, there are tears in her eyes again, and as he watches, one rolls down her cheekbone. He catches it with his finger, wipes it away, and shakes his head.

"Hey – no more tears. You get out there, learn new stuff, do what you have to do and come back to us. Can't put up with a rookie scientist forever."

"Be nice to Simon," Abby reproaches, scrubbing at her eyes with her hand and shooting him a stern look. "He knows his stuff."

"Not as well as you know yours," he says, glad to see her regain a little equilibrium.

"Give him time. He might surprise you. Palmer did."

Gibbs has to concede the point. "Keep in touch."

"You, too. Check your email every once in a while. It's the twenty-first century – that's how people communicate."

"Prefer letters," he shoots back.

"Then I'll write you." A group of teenagers duck around them to get to the security gate, and Abby takes the cue to get going, hugging Gibbs one last time. "Take care. Don't get killed."

"Haven't yet," he returns, squeezing her tightly, then releasing her before he can change his mind about challenging her motives again. "Get going."

For a moment, she hesitates, gazing at him as if memorising his face. Then, slowly, she nods; first stepping back, then turning away.

Gibbs moves aside as soon as her back is turned, knowing she'll glance back after a few steps. When she does, looking more emotionally vulnerable than he's seen her in months, he's out of her line of sight.

She bites her lip, nods to herself, then resumes her course, squaring her shoulders the way she always does when she knows she has to pull it together. Gibbs stays put until she's out of sight, then begins his slow walk toward the exit.

It's over and done, and there's nothing he can do about it. Time to let go of it and get to work.

_Let go of it?_ His mouth twists into a wry smile at the thought. _Yeah, _that's_ gonna happen._

Where his people are concerned, he doesn't let go. And that applies to Abby, more than most.


	5. Social Call

**Author's Note**: Here's another chapter... Not a lot happening, but hey!

* * *

The following morning, McGee announces that he's received a text message from Abby, confirming that she arrived safely at her destination. Though still uneasy about her departure, Gibbs is relieved to hear it; still more so when Ducky tells him he's spoken to both his niece and Abby.

His team catches a fairly straightforward case around lunchtime, and Gibbs welcomes the distraction from the puzzle of Abby's departure.

That is, until the barista at his local coffee shop reaches for the stack of Caf-Pow! cups when he orders his usual, and he has to correct himself.

His mood worsens when he makes the trip down to the lab, which is still decorated the way Abby likes it, but devoid of her toys and the rest of what he's always affectionately thought of as 'junk'.

The only soundtrack is the low murmur of a radio DJ, nowhere near loud enough to be offensive, and for some reason, that pisses him off even more. The sight of a lab-coated Simon Chang, hunched over Abby's computer, is the final straw.

"What do you got?"

Chang hadn't heard his approach, and he startles, blinking almost guiltily up at Gibbs. "Agent Gibbs!"

"Mr. Chang…" Gibbs waits for an answer to his question, raising an eyebrow.

"Sorry, sir. Ummm… DNA will take a few more hours, as you know, but a fingerprint match came through…"

"How long ago?"

Chang shrugs, his brow furrowing. "Ten, fifteen minutes?"

"And you didn't think I needed to know about it? What do you got?" Gibbs snaps, not bothering to sensor his frustration.

"I sent the result straight to your email." Now that he's recovered from the momentary shock of being snuck up on, Chang seems quite calm.

If not for Abby's admonition at the airport – _be nice to Simon; he knows his stuff_ – he'd let the boy know exactly what he thinks of that statement. For her sake, though, he holds off. A little. "Next time, you call me. If you can't get hold of me, call DiNozzo, David or McGee. If you can't reach them, email _them_, or send out a damn messenger pigeon. But _never_ email me."

"Right." Chang seems as though he's mentally counting to ten as he gets up from Abby's desk and walks through to the outer lab. Abby would have given him hell, in Chang's place, and Gibbs can't help but feel a little grudging respect for his restraint.

Doesn't mean he likes him any better, though.

* * *

"Abby in MTAC in 5 minutes," McGee calls from the balcony that overlooks the squad room.

Gibbs takes the stairs two at a time, Tony and Ziva hot on his heels. Ducky and Palmer are already present, and McGee is conferring with the MTAC technician as Gibbs walks in.

While the others talk amongst themselves, Gibbs takes a seat in the front row, sipping his coffee and thinking back over the past few days. The Navy Yard without Abby has seemed quieter, saner, and altogether more boring. Simon Chang has proved a competent worker, but that's all Gibbs is willing to grant him.

Speaking of which…

Just as Abby's image flickers up on the huge screen at the front of the room, he hears Ducky greet Chang. Abby's laughter drowns out the reply, however, and Gibbs focuses on the video feed, an involuntary smile creeping onto his face.

Abby's attention isn't on the computer she's using – there's a little girl with her, maybe five or six years old, and Abby is fastening a hair tie around the kid's pigtail. "There you go. Just like me."

The child beams, touching the hair tie gently. "Does it look good?"

"Are you kidding? It looks awesome," Abby says, hugging her.

The child giggles, and notices the video feed on the computer. "Look, it's Uncle Ducky!"

Abby's own pigtails flick around as she turns toward the camera, and she waves at the gathering of people clustered together in MTAC, her smile widening. "Hey, everyone!"

Gibbs gets up, stepping into view as everyone greets her. Abby's gaze lands on him, brightens, then moves on. "This is Ducky's great-niece, Rachel! I'm staying with her mom, Emma."

Rachel waves, turning a little shy. Abby hoists her into her lap, looking over her shoulder. "Okay, let me tell you who everyone is! You know Uncle Ducky already."

"Are you helping Abby to settle in?" Ducky wants to know, and Rachel nods vigorously. "I'll be visiting in a few weeks. Give my love to your mummy."

"I will!"

Abby continues on with the introductions. "Next to him is Jimmy – he helps Uncle Ducky in Autopsy."

"What's that mean?"

"Uhhh…" Abby fumbles for a child-friendly explanation, and Jimmy steps in.

"I help him with doctor stuff."

"Oh!" Rachel waves. "Hiya, Jimmy."

"See next to him?" Abby says. "That's Simon. He's looking after my lab while I'm gone. How's it going, Simon?"

"Good," Chang says, glancing down at his lab coat. "I'm getting the hang of everything, and the Major's on his best behaviour; don't worry."

Abby looks visibly relieved, as if she'd been afraid every machine in her lab would pine for her in her absence. Gibbs drains his coffee cup, amused, as she continues to run through the introductions: Tony, Ziva, McGee. And finally…

"And the guy with the silver hair is Gibbs." Gibbs raises a hand in greeting, and the girl stares from him to Abby and back again.

"That's not silver. It's _grey._"

A ripple of suppressed laughter runs through the room, and Gibbs inclines his head at Rachel, shrugging. "You're right. Good eyes."

A faint voice calls, and Abby helps the girl down out of her lap. "Go see what your mom wants, okay?"

"Bye, Uncle Ducky!" Rachel runs out of shot, and Abby watches her go.

"Sorry about that, everyone. She really wanted to say hey to you, Ducky."

"What time is it there, Abbs?" Tony wants to know.

She glances away from the screen, then back again. "Nearly five p.m. – Rachel's bedtime. Which would make it… almost noon for you guys, right? How's the Navy Yard?"

"Same as you left it. You've been gone less than a week, my dear," Ducky reminds her.

"I know. It feels like longer. It's… weird."

"How's Edinburgh?" McGee asks.

"It has a dungeon! Well, not a real dungeon, cause that'd be beyond retro, but there's a museum called the Edinburgh Dungeon, and it's all about the creepy myths and legends from centuries ago, famous ghosts and grave robbers, and-"

As Gibbs listens to her babble, something eases within him that he hadn't realised needed to. She's safe, she's enthusiastic about where she is and what she's doing, and although he misses her in the lab, it's a relief to know she's okay.

"…and if you think American students drink too much, you gotta see how much _British_ students get through. It's insane. And I swear, English people are worse than Scots! That whole stiff-upper-lip thing? Total misnomer."

Her gaze wanders behind them, and she waves again. "Hey, Leon!"

"Ms. Sciuto," Vance says, approaching the front of the room.

Abby winces at his tone. "You don't approve of MTAC being used for social calls."

"No, I don't." Vance levels his gaze at the tech, and the man standing beside her. "Agent McGee…"

"Sorry, Director. Won't happen again." Clearing his throat, McGee looks over at the screen. "Talk to you later, Abby."

"Wait, wait, wait! I need to talk to Gibbs!"

All eyes turn to Abby, then to Gibbs, who raises an eyebrow at Vance. After a second's silence, Vance sighs. "You got five minutes. The rest of you, gear up or get back to work. Dead marine found at Rock Creek Park."

"Another one?" Tony mutters. "Marines should be banned from setting foot in there."

"Scram," Gibbs says, and they clear out in a hurry, calling their goodbyes to Abby.

Finally, the room is empty of everyone but Gibbs and the tech. Gibbs gives the woman a glance, and she hastily gets to her feet. "I'll be outside when you're done."

Gibbs watches her leave, and then turns to Abby. "What's up?"

She fidgets. "Oh, I dunno… I just wanted to ask how everyone is. I mean, really."

"We're holding up. Keep saying we're sending stuff to you when we're not, but that'll pass. You're missed, Abbs."

She nods, smiling ruefully. "I miss you, too."

The pause that follows is a heartbeat too long; a little awkward. Then, shaking her head, she says, "Are you going easy on Simon?"

"When he deserves it."

Abby sighs. "Gibbs…"

"Which is most of the time," he adds, to reassure her. "He's doing okay."

She smiles. "Told ya."

"You'd be better." The hint of accusation in his voice is unintentional, and she ignores it.

"Just don't headslap him. He's not hardened to it like Tony and McGee. You might knock something vital loose."

Gibbs rolls his eyes. "I don't need to headslap him. He hardly speaks."

"You intimidate him!" Abby's claim is diminished by the long-suffering smile on her face, and he can't help but return it.

"I won't drive him out, Abbs. No point in going through a bunch of scientists who don't think the same way I do… might as well keep the first one until I get you back here."

Her expression softens a little, and he knows she's touched. "You're my favourite, too. Only, don't tell the Major."

Remembering the time he whispered those words in her ear, he wishes he'd told her more often. Maybe then, she'd have stayed in the States. Probably not. But maybe.

"Ready to tell me what made you decide to up and leave, yet?"

She shakes her head, waving a hand at him. "Don't you have a dead Marine to go see?"

"Uh-huh." He takes a step backward in preparation to leave, reluctant to turn his back on her. "Keep in touch, Abbs."

"You know I will. Be careful out there," she tells him, as he heads for the door.

When he glances back, she's already cut the feed.


	6. Ink and Instinct

**Author's Note**: A little different, format wise... but I'm hoping it works. :) Thanks for reading, as ever!

* * *

Life settles into an uneasy normalcy. Abby emails at least one of the team every week, and a couple of times everyone takes a turn in front of McGee's computer in the squad room to video conference with her. A lot of the time, though, she's busy with her studies.

A few weeks after their MTAC conversation, Gibbs finds a thick envelope with international stamps in his mailbox. Recognising Abby's handwriting, he smiles slightly, continuing on into the house with a lighter mood.

* * *

_Gibbs,_

_Told you I'd write! Not that it'll do much good if you can't read my handwriting – I can't even remember the last time I used a pen for more than five seconds at a time. And I know your eyesight isn't as good as it used to be, so if you're struggling, just admit defeat and wear your glasses, okay?_

_

* * *

_

Rolling his eyes, Gibbs stops holding the letter at arm's length and goes in search of coffee. The fact that his reading glasses are next to the coffeemaker is irrelevant to the content of the letter.

Once he's settled on his couch with a steaming mug of black coffee and the glasses, he resumes reading.

* * *

_What can I tell you about Edinburgh? The Dungeon, I already told you about. The castle is just amazing – I've been around it three times already. And there are some really cool clubs. Not that you'd care about that._

_Ducky's niece, Emma – she's really sweet. I don't know how much you know about her, but she's about my age, a little younger, I think. She's not much like Ducky at all – she's a big fan of cooking and she has a great singing voice, but she doesn't carry around a million and one facts in her brain or cut up corpses. Or if she is, she does a really good job hiding the evidence._

_And you met Rachel last week. She's such a sweetie! I told her a little more about you all after the MTAC conference, including about how you headslap Tony and McGee. BIG mistake. She's started doing it to all her stuffed animals, which is really adorable, but a couple of times she's tried it on me or her mom, and Emma had to send her to her room and be pretty harsh with her in case she started doing it at preschool. I had to tell her you don't headslap girls… well, except Ziva, but Ziva's tougher than McGee is, so she doesn't exactly count._

_Anyway, when I'm not teaching kids your bad habits, I'm either studying or working. Well, the working is technically more fun than work, cause I've gone back to bartending; three nights a week at a club just off campus. It's so close to the university that every night's like Saturday – I kinda missed that from my college days! But luckily they play two nights of total cheese and two nights of Ibiza-style dance music per week, so I'm not tempted to put in much overtime. The three alternative nights are enough!_

_As for the actual reason I'm there… wow. I have a research grant, and I'm not afraid to use it! Actually, I am a little, because if I overspend then I'm gonna end up with theories at the end of this year that I won't have any budget to prove next year. And I'd talk your ear off if I was actually there speaking to you, but my writing hand is out of practice and I don't wanna give myself a cramp. Which is probably a relief to you, come to think of it!_

_So, how are things over there? Is everyone okay? I'd ask if McGee got a date with that waitress he was ogling the other week, or whether Tony bought his new car, or whether the guy down in records is still drooling over Ziva, but by the time you get this, I'll have emailed them and asked them, anyway._

_Hmmm, stuff they can't tell me… Are you feeling a little better about Simon yet? I know you're gonna end up loving him – he's like six years younger than I am, and he already has a better handle on things than I did when I was his age. Remember when we first met and you asked ex-Director Morrow if I actually knew forensics?_

_

* * *

_

Gibbs shakes his head with a grin; it was a long time ago, but he remembers the disbelief he'd felt at meeting Abby for the first time well. She'd asked him if he was judging a book by its cover, and he had been; he'd never worked with anyone with such blatant disregard for the Navy Yard's dress policy before, and she'd seemed so childlike at first… all pigtails and smiles and knee-high socks.

He'd quickly realised his mistake. Even back then, underneath the playful paradox of her dress and her musical tastes and her sunny attitude, there'd been an intelligence and maturity to her character that surprised him. Within a couple of months, he'd developed a deep respect for her judgment, and her smiles and enthusiasm could charm a snake.

Now, he can't imagine living without her. Too bad he's already a couple of months into the reality of it.

* * *

_Rachel just gave me a picture she drew for you – check it out! It's kinda like a Picasso, don't you think? In case you can't tell exactly, she made me write what everything is on the back._

_

* * *

_

He looks through the remaining pages of the letter and finds the drawing tucked in at the back. In true five-year-old style, the hands are malformed, the lips just an upturned red crayon line, and the sun has visible rays. It reminds him strongly of the drawings Kelly used to give him at that age, and his amusement is tinged with grief for just an instant.

In the picture, he and Abby are standing in a field, an unidentifiable grey object between them and flowers growing to either side. He studies it for a moment, then turns over the paper to find that the grey lump is meant to be Bert, Abby's stuffed hippo.

Gibbs never thought he'd miss that damn hippo's presence in the lab, but he does.

Sighing, he drains his coffee cup and continues to read.

* * *

_How goes the romance with Ms. Hart? Or is that one of those topics where you just give me the patented Gibbs-Stare and wait for me to give up and change the subject?_

_

* * *

_

Gibbs blinks, rereading the paragraph and trying to figure out how she's under the impression that he has anything going on with Allison Hart. He'd been a mixture of intrigued and pissed off when he first met her. As her connection to Colonel Bell became more and more apparent, he'd become less intrigued and more suspicious, choosing to follow the old advice: keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.

Oh, she'd played the seduction card with him, more than once. And he'd entertained it, for a while. If not for an incapacitating arm injury at a certain point, he would even have taken her bait, despite his reservations about her. But the moment passed, and he distanced himself again by degrees.

Since she found out the truth about Hernandez and offered to represent him in court, if it came down to that, they've cultivated an uneasy friendship. He doesn't trust her, not completely. And despite her obvious intelligence and icy beauty, he knows that any kind of romance between them would burn out within weeks. He doesn't have the emotional energy for that kind of drama right now.

Abby's mention of the subject is strange, but if there's a reason for the instinctive twist of his gut, he can't pin it down right now. Instead, he scans the final part of the letter, which is more of what he would have expected from her.

* * *

_Give my love to your dad, and Tobias, and the nuns if you see them! Don't forget to feed Aurum and Pyrite – you know they can't exist on just water._

_I miss you! Take care, be careful, and don't forget to sleep (I know – pot, kettle, right?)._

_Love and hugs,_

_Abby_

_x_

_

* * *

_

With another wistful smile, he sets down the pages and gets up from the couch, heading upstairs to his bedroom with a slow, weary tread.

While he changes into the clothing he wears to work on his boat, his mind remains upon Abby. Her voice comes through clearly in the way she writes, and he'd give anything to hear it with his ears, rather than within his mind.

If it wasn't five hours later in Edinburgh than it is in DC, he'd be tempted to call her, to calm the slight twinge of indefinable intuition in his gut. As it is, he feeds the goldfish – named by Abby with elemental reference to their colour – and tries to forget about it.


	7. Rob

**Author's Note**: This one is kind of a filler chapter. Apologies in advance for the complete lack of interesting stuff. XD For some reason, I felt like I needed this chapter before I get back to the face-to-face angst.

* * *

"Ooooh… Abby's on YouTube."

This past few days has been Gibbs' most irritable Halloween yet, and Tony and Ziva both glance his way, rising to their feet only when he nods at them. A few cases have involved the video hosting site, and he has a vague idea of what it is. There, his knowledge ends.

"Did she link you?" Tony wants to know.

"Nope. She's tagged."

Gibbs is only just aware that it's another word for graffiti, and that after many long years interrogating various street-thug suspects. What it means in relation to YouTube, he has no clue, and he doesn't bother asking McGee. He doesn't care that much.

He's curious to see what's on the video, though. While McGee announces that it's 'buffering', Gibbs moves around to lean his elbows on the partition behind him, within view of the screen.

"Aaaand… play," McGee announces, hitting a button.

The video is shakily shot in the gloom of a nightclub, and at first the only sign of Abby is her voice, calling above the music. "Hey! Quit filming pretty girls and tell me what you're drinking!"

Abruptly, the camera jerks around, revealing Abby. She's behind the bar, wearing a black tank top that shows off the tatts on her arms. "Now I can do both," the guy behind the camera says in a mild Scots accent, and Abby rolls her eyes, though a grin steals over her face. "And it's a rum and coke."

Nodding, Abby gets to work, turning away. The camera wanders, taking in a variety of figures in outrageous costumes; the video must have been shot on Halloween night.

"Wow, check out that guy's costume. Can he even breathe in that?" Abby's voice is half-admiring, half-concerned. The camera whips around to focus on her again, and then off in the direction she's looking, where someone is dressed up as a Lego man.

"Nice _Dead Rising_ reference!" McGee mutters approvingly.

"Is that one of the four movies Tony has never heard of?" Ziva wants to know, smirking at DiNozzo's blank expression.

"It's a videogame," McGee says, cutting himself off when the camera returns to Abby.

"No costume for you?" the cameraman asks.

Abby glances down at herself with a shrug. "I didn't have a whole lot of time this year, so I chose the Wednesday Addams approach."

"Huh?"

"_I'm a psychopath_," Tony quotes along with her. "_They look just like everybody else._"

Gibbs can't help but grin at her logic, though it's the second year running that she's been without a costume on Halloween night. Maybe she's growing out of the trend – about fifteen years later than everyone else. For some reason, the idea makes him a little wistful.

"Nice," Abby's cameraman approves, and the video wavers as his drink moves across it. Once he's set it down again, he asks, "So what are _you_ drinking?"

Picking up a nearby can, Abby holds it up to the camera. "Red Bull. And thank _god_ you guys have it, because I was going nuts without my Caf-Pow! fix."

The cameraman starts to speak again, but Abby cuts him off. "Sorry, Rob – duty calls. Yeah," she adds to someone off-camera, leaning forward to listen to their order.

The guy – Rob – trains the camera on Abby for a few seconds longer, then on the group of girls she's serving. Then another guy catches his attention, and a short, unremarkable conversation later, Gibbs is about to return to his desk. Abby's name stops him. "Abbs!"

"Still busy, Rob..." She barely looks up from the pint she's pouring.

"What time d'you finish?"

Surprised, she looks over at the camera. "Three. Why?"

"Can I walk a gorgeous psychopath home?"

"Ooooh," Tony says, soaking up the personal exchange like a sponge. The urge to headslap him is almost too much to bear, but Gibbs holds himself back, recognising that his surge of irritation is out of proportion.

Abby gives the cameraman a half-startled, half-intrigued glance. "Go film more half-naked women, Rob."

"See you at three!" Rob replies, plunging into the crowd with the friend he was talking to. There are a full couple of minutes left on the video, and McGee skips ahead a little, but Abby's role in it is over.

While his team begins to gossip about whether anything would have happened between Abby and Rob, Gibbs makes for the door, bent on finding a fresh caffeine hit. For some reason, the thought of her with the invisible Scotsman pisses him off.

_Jealous, Jethro?_ For some reason, the voice in his head sounds like Diane, his second ex-wife. He sighs, runs a hand through his hair and heads out into the rain.

* * *

He replies to Abby's letter, letting her know what's going on in the lab, recent cases they've worked and a few other aspects of his life.

To her question about Allison Hart, he gives no answer, his gut telling him to steer clear of the issue until he can talk to Abby face to face. He hasn't seen Hart in a while, and hasn't really felt the lack. He's been too preoccupied with work and the puzzle of Abby's disappearance, and he has no idea what Allison's been doing.

He doesn't receive another letter from Scotland, and he's slowly becoming used to the new status quo at work. Every now and then, Abby's name is mentioned, but for the most part, he's able to put his concerns aside. Sometimes, late at night in his basement, he'll turn the whole thing over again in his mind until he's weary and irritable, wondering at her absence and missing her presence keenly.

The rest of the time, he gets on with life.

Abby left in early September. By the time December is a week old, Simon Chang's presence in the lab is only a minor irritation; he's proven himself competent, though Gibbs doesn't consider him a part of his team.

Even so, when Tony looks up from his computer screen, announcing that Abby will be home for the Christmas period that weekend, Gibbs feels his mood lift. In Tony's, Ziva's and McGee's faces, he sees the same thing.


	8. A New Light

**Author's Note**: This one was difficult to write. Hope it doesn't miss the mark...

* * *

"Ducky! I missed you!"

Over at the coffee stand, Gibbs hears the exuberant cry before he sees its owner. Taking the change the barista offers him, he glances over his shoulder to see Ducky being half-suffocated by a familiar pigtailed figure.

He picks up the coffee and the Caf-Pow! he's just paid for and returns to the medical examiner's side, moving the soft drink into Abby's line of sight.

She gasps, releases Ducky and grabs the drink, taking a quick gulp before she fully focuses on him. Her smile is warm and a little melancholy. "Hey, Gibbs. Didn't know you were gonna be here."

After a split-second's hesitation, she hugs him tightly, and something within him unknots; breathes a sigh of relief that's mental rather than physical. "Welcome home, Abbs."

She steps back, her eyes bright with unshed tears, and looks from him to Ducky. "Am I still okay to stay at your place?"

"Of course. Jethro just drove me here; the Morgan needs medical attention at the moment, and not the kind I can give in a single day. Now, you must tell me how my little grand-niece is getting on..." Ducky takes her arm and turns her toward the exit, and Gibbs brings up the rear, lagging a little to allow his mind to synch with his gut instinct.

Whatever caused Abby to up and leave DC, it's still an issue. Now, though, he's managed to narrow it down a little. It doesn't affect the way she speaks to Ducky; he could see that in her reaction when she was unaware of his presence. He's pretty sure that her hesitance won't apply to the rest of the team.

It's something he's done, or hasn't done. That puts him back at square one, because if there's a second of the past year's conversations with Abby that he hasn't overanalysed, he'll be surprised.

* * *

The rest of the gang is already at Ducky's, fully armed with party food, non-alcoholic eggnog – Gibbs' team is on call – and the skeleton from the lab, dressed as usual in a Santa outfit. Abby is delighted, and between hugging everyone so tightly that their ribs crack, sharing stories from Scotland and bestowing lots of much-appreciated attention on Ducky's corgis, she's constantly busy.

Gibbs scratches Tyson on the top of his head – the dog has become oddly attached to him, though according to Ducky, he bites – and watches her pick up an empty tray of nibbles, preparing to return it to the kitchen. Ducky follows her, and Gibbs leaves Tyson gnawing on one of his toys, acting on instinct and heading after Ducky.

"Everything's the same." Abby's voice reaches his ears, and he halts, knowing he shouldn't be eavesdropping and hardly caring.

"Did you expect things to have changed?" Ducky asks her.

"There was one thing I _hoped_ had changed," she replies, a little wearily. "But nope. Just the same. Maybe it's just gonna take the whole two years. Maybe it won't happen at all."

"You know, if Jethro finds out that I know _why_ you've chosen this path, he won't stop badgering me until I slip up and tell him. He's been driving himself mad trying to work out the enigma of your decision."

She sighs. "I know. And it's not fair on you, Ducky. Maybe… maybe I'll just tell him. Like, right before I get on the plane."

"Don't worry about it, my dear. I've been dealing with Jethro since before you came to work for NCIS. This is just the latest incident, and I'm sure it won't be the last."

Anyone else might have been insulted. Gibbs, however, knows full well that he can be 'difficult', and Ducky's judgment is fair enough.

Tyson trots through to the hallway, seeking out Gibbs, and reluctantly he returns to the living room, stealing a cocktail sausage off DiNozzo's plate on his way past.

"That's okay, Boss… I didn't need to eat that."

Before Gibbs can reply, his cell rings, and he answers with his mouth full. "Gibbs."

By the time he hangs up, Abby and Ducky have returned to the living room. "Gear up," he says, and his team gives a collective sigh of resignation.

"You're on call?" Abby asks. When Gibbs nods, she looks around at Simon. "Does anyone mind if I call the Director and ask if I can help out with the forensics?"

Simon shrugs. "As long as you're not too jet-lagged."

Abby holds up her Caf-Pow!. "You ever tried this stuff? Trust me, I won't be too jet-lagged."

While everyone else begins gathering their gear, she dials a number. "Hey, Director… I'm good, thanks. Got in a little while ago… Do you mind if I assist with the forensics tonight? Not for pay or anything, just cause Gibbs' team is on call and I miss my lab."

She hangs up a minute or so later, grinning at Simon. "Can I grab a ride?"

* * *

Hours pass, and Gibbs more than once has to headslap his team into focusing on the case. The topic on everyone's minds is Abby.

"Think she's seeing that Rob guy from the YouTube video?" Tony asks.

"Think she misses it here?" McGee ponders.

"Think I could get some work out of either of you tonight?" Gibbs says pointedly.

Once they're done with the crime scene, they have witness statements to take and a timeline to establish. Ducky, Palmer, the evidence and the body all head back to NCIS, and Gibbs and his team remain busy in the field until after midnight.

When they eventually arrive back at the Navy Yard, Ziva, Tony and McGee go ahead, up to the bullpen. Gibbs parks the sedan, grabs a coffee for himself and a Caf-Pow! for Abby, and then makes for the lab.

For the first time in too long, the sound of loud gothtronica music washes over him, and he halts in the doorway, watching Abby carefully add some sort of solution to a test tube. Her focus is absolute, and she doesn't notice him as he takes in her familiar profile, a slight smile on his face.

She sets down the test tube and then glances up, as if sensing his gaze. Her expression brightens, and the revelation hits him hard, out of nowhere.

Abby is so much more to him than a friend.

Taken aback, he can only stare at her, and her brow furrows. "Gibbs? You okay?"

The words break his momentary paralysis, and he hands her the Caf-Pow!, shaking his head. "Déjà vu."

"It's been a while, huh?" she agrees, alluding to her presence in the lab. "So, are you gonna say it?"

Waiting expectantly, she takes a sip of her Caf-Pow!, and he tries to follow her train of thought. Coming up blank, he changes the subject. "What do you got for me, Abbs?"

"Yay!" she says, bouncing up and down a little. "I so missed hearing you say that!"

_Oh._ On a normal night, he'd have gotten that sooner. Tonight… he's off-balance, and it's gonna take more than a few seconds to get over. "So what _do_ you got?"

"Not much, yet," she begins, whirling and bringing up a photograph on her computer screen. "There's a layer of gunk on the bottom of his shoes, but it's gonna take the Major a little while longer to analyse."

Following her gaze, he glances over at the mass spectrometer, and double-takes. "Abby… why is the machine wearing a kilt?"

She giggles. "Why not?"

Simon appears from within the inner office, the bullet Ducky pulled from the murder victim in his hand. "Doesn't match the gun in the glove box," he tells Abby, and she nods.

"No misdemeanours on the victim's gun. It was registered to him and never used to commit a crime."

Simon asks her something Gibbs would need at least three years in college to understand, and she replies with something equally scientific. It's strange to see Abby working so well with someone else within her lab, and as Simon heads off again, Gibbs points out, "You're learning to share your toys."

"At the university, you _have_ to share," she says, a little ruefully. "And none of my assistants have tried to murder me or corrupt evidence yet. It's a whole new world out there."

"Better than this one?" he asks.

Abby considers, but before she can reply, her cell rings. "Sorry, Gibbs. I have more, but let me just take this."

Gibbs wanders over to the plasma screen while she answers. "Hey! Yeah, the flight was okay. It's like one-thirty in the morning now, and I'm working at NCIS for the night, so I'm gonna have to call you back. Say, in a couple of hours, max?"

There's a pause, and when Abby speaks again, there's an edge to her tone. "Yeah, and _I_ said I'm working." She sighs, listening, and then snaps, "Come on, you're a big boy now. You can make it two more hours without speaking to me. I'll call you later."

Gibbs raises an eyebrow at her, and she takes another sip of her drink before speaking. "And _that_ is why I shouldn't date younger guys."

"Rob?" His voice emerges a wry drawl, though he strives to curb his possessiveness.

Abby blinks at him. "How do you know his name?"

Gibbs shrugs. "YouTube."

"Okay, things must have really changed since I went away, cause I could swear I just heard _Gibbs_ say 'YouTube'."

"McGee found a video from Halloween."

"Oh." She rolls her eyes. "Remind me to headslap him."

"Want me to do the honours?"

Her grin is wicked, stirring an unexpectedly sharp craving within him. "Nah, I got it. Anyway…"

As she gets back on topic, beginning to tell him about the blood spatter at the crime scene, Gibbs strives to pay attention to the science and not just to the cadence of her voice. It's as if he's seeing her in a completely new light, registering things about her that he's been blocking subconsciously for years.

Though he and his agents won't be able to do anything more until the morning, Gibbs gets the feeling he's in for a sleepless remainder of the night.


	9. Between the Lines

**Author's Note**: It's been a while. I'm so busy at the moment... fail. But yeah, still working on stuff slowly, here and there. Hope this is okay!

* * *

"Oh, Gibbs… I don't know if I should." Abby stares at the Caf-Pow! with a mixture of longing and determination. "I want it, but I'm scared I won't be able to do without it when I go back to Scotland."

Gibbs shrugs, withdrawing the drink and looking toward the elevator. "Okay. I'll give it to McGee."

Before he can even take a step, Abby snatches the cup from his hand and takes a long sip, glaring at him. "That's a waste of Caf-Pow!," she tells him, when she finally sets down the cup. "McGee can't handle a whole one. He drinks half, then gets jumpy and wusses out."

He suppresses a smile and inclines his head toward her computer. "You got a hit?"

Though Christmas is just a few days away, Abby has stuck around the Navy Yard for the past couple, assisting Simon with the case and chatting with everyone who stops by her lab. In the wake of his epiphany, Gibbs has stayed out of her way, sending Ziva down here for results instead of coming himself.

He's spent his evenings his basement, putting the finishing touches to this year's toys for the children's hospital and mulling over this latest development in the strange case of Abby Sciuto.

Only, it's not a development; it's a complication. A regression.

A temptation.

Standing here now, with her gaze flitting periodically to him as she explains her findings, he wonders if she's ever felt the same way about him. From the way she begged him to tell her she's like a daughter to him, back when she found out she'd have to submit a report that would end his career… he guesses not.

Her explanation has evolved into six-syllabled words again, and he interjects with her name, pulling her back to language he can understand. Even then, his brain only processes the very basics; her voice grows husky with amusement, and he wonders how he could have been oblivious to its allure for all these years.

* * *

They catch a break in the case at around four-thirty the next day, and Abby departs with hugs for everyone, citing a night out to prepare for.

Gibbs makes it home by seven, and works on one final addition to this year's batch of Christmas toys. It was Abby's suggestion that he turn his talent for woodcraft to a charitable cause, the first time she walked into his empty basement after the _Kelly_ was finished.

The topic hadn't come up until after she'd pleaded with him for twenty minutes solid to reveal how he'd gotten the boat out of the basement. He smiles at the memory, and then at another, remembering how excited she'd looked to be given the boat to examine for an NCIS case, a few months later.

Then again, when he'd told her with a heavy heart to take it apart in her search for evidence, she'd looked distressed. She always did have a knack for discerning what really matters to him.

"_Tell me how much I've been like a daughter to you…"_

What really matters, if not exactly _how_ it matters.

His mood plummeting, he sets down the miniature boat and sighs. All this time, he's been trying to work out Abby's odd behaviour. Now that she's here, he can't focus on unravelling her motivations because he's too distracted by his own emotions.

Another hour passes, and he finishes up the tiny boat, sealing the painted colours with a coat of lacquer. As he sets the toy aside to dry, he hears his front door open and close, and glances at his watch. It's late, and he's not expecting anyone.

It takes him only a few seconds to put a face to the subsequent footsteps, though. Abby's boots are always easy to identify.

"I'm never gonna get used to a boat not being there, you know." She doesn't bother with a hello, descending to the basement with a brief smile. "It still makes my brain short-circuit when I try to come up with a logical explanation for it ending up outside this room, _intact_."

"We're not gonna have that discussion again, right?" He pulls a sawhorse over for her to sit on, and she takes her seat with a murmur of thanks. "You have fun?"

"I did. Loud music, alcohol and friends – what's not to love?"

"Loud music," he replies dryly. "Though it's been a while since you deafened me with yours."

"You know, I'd be happy to deafen you whenever you want. Good thing you and I both sign, right?" She catches his eye before continuing through gestures. _Don't get much practice any more. I email my parents, and no one I've met at the university knows ASL._

Gibbs replies in kind, his gestures a little slower than hers, as always. _Don't get much practice myself. Missed it._ Then, after a slight hesitation: _You, too._

If they'd been speaking, her response would have been, "Awwww!" Since they're not, she gives him the body language equivalent, clearly touched. _You know, I think this is one of my favourite places in the world. Even though it's so quiet._

He wants to demand how she could leave it behind, if it means so much to her. Instead, he shrugs. _It'll always be here for you._

Abby nodw and changes the subject, picking up one of the toys he's completed. "Awww! You made another batch this year."

The switch to speech eases the sense of intimacy between them, and he doesn't know whether to be disappointed or relieved. "Kids loved last year's. Figured I might as well do something useful while I tried to figure you out."

She frowns at him, echoing his earlier words. "We're not gonna have that discussion again, right?"

Gibbs shrugs. "Even trade. You tell me what I did, and I'll tell you how I got the boat out of the basement."

"What _you_ did?" She's sitting perfectly still, as if a single movement will give her away. "Why do you think it's something to do with you?"

He casts a sideways glance at her, not bothering to hide his impatience. "My gut."

She jumps up, choosing movement now, and begins to pace. "You didn't do anything wrong, Gibbs."

He reads between the lines easily. "Then what did I _not_ do?"

Abby reacts like a cornered animal, defensive and snappy. "Are there any boundaries you actually respect? I've told you a million times, I don't wanna talk about–"

As she turns away, he grabs her wrist, and she jerks to a standstill, startled into meeting his gaze. Her pulse beats against his fingers, and the warmth of her skin sends a subtle thrill through him.

"Abby." His voice emerges so low that he's not sure she'd even have noticed it, if she wasn't looking at him. He shakes his head, releasing her. "Just tell me."

She rubs her wrist absently, though he knows he didn't grab her hard enough to hurt. "You didn't _not_ do anything anyone could reasonably be expected to do."

The convoluted sentence takes him a few seconds to unravel, and by the time he's fully comprehended her meaning – that it's her unreasonable expectations of him that have driven her away, rather than his actions – she's already disappeared back into his kitchen, and her footsteps are fast retreating toward the front door.

There a million different things she could mean, but his mind can only contemplate one option. _Wishful thinking at its most pathetic, Jethro._ Diane's voice is back in his head, derisively amused.

"No kidding," he murmurs to himself, snapping off the lamp that sits on his workbench and ascending the stairs in the darkness.

The thought that Abby might have decided she needs time and distance to get over her unrequited feelings for him is too compelling to dismiss.


	10. Punches

**Author's Note**: Finally managed to finish this chapter! Thanks to those on my Twitter account for helping me to focus on this again. Hope everyone who celebrated had a lovely Thanksgiving. :)

* * *

Gibbs' team spends Christmas on call, much to DiNozzo's often-expressed disdain, but though Simon is a constant presence in the lab, Abby is busy with her family. Her parents and brother have travelled up to DC from Louisiana to save her the extra journey, and she's spending Christmas with them for the first time in a while – she usually works Christmas and joins them for New Year.

By the time Abby returns to helping out Simon in the lab, it's a couple of days into January. Gibbs isn't sure whether she'll come back to the Navy Yard, and that it happens on the day Allison Hart calls him is pure bad luck.

He agrees to meet the lawyer for lunch, and heads down to the lobby at the appointed time, returning her hug out of reflex and then signing out at the front desk. When he sets down the pen, a hand picks it up almost immediately.

A hand with a smiley face tattooed on the middle finger.

"Hey, Gibbs," Abby murmurs, her smile barely reaching her eyes. "Happy New Year."

"Same to you, Abbs." The awkwardness between them is mainly residual from the talk they had in his basement, but Allison's presence doesn't make it any easier.

"Ms. Hart." Abby acknowledges her presence with a nod, but nothing more.

"Abby. It's good to see you; I thought you were studying in England." Allison looks from her to Gibbs, and back again, a little puzzled.

"Scotland," Abby corrects. "I'm here for the holidays. I fly back over there next weekend." Glancing over at Gibbs, she gestures over at the elevator. "And Simon's expecting me, so I'm gonna…"

She's striding further into the building before he can speak, and he watches her go, concerned.

"Hmm." Allison seems thoughtful, but offers no further comment. "Ready to eat?"

As he follows her out into the street, Gibbs realises that he's lost his appetite.

* * *

When Gibbs returns from his lunch break, McGee is the only member of his team present. Though he knows he should be asking for the whereabouts of DiNozzo and Ziva, his mind is fixated on one question.

"Abby still here?"

McGee blinks up at him. "Uh… yeah. I think so."

Nodding, Gibbs turns in the direction of the back elevators, halting impatiently at the younger agent's voice. "Boss? She's not in her lab. Think she went to the gym."

A little surprised, Gibbs nods his thanks, and frowns when McGee gets up from his desk. "Coming along?"

"Well, yeah. Aren't we scheduled for hand to hand practice this afternoon?"

Somehow, that had slipped his mind. With a sigh, he beckons for McGee to follow him. They almost collide with Tony on the way past the men's head, and Ziva is already a few steps up the corridor.

The radio in the gym has been switched off, and Abby's usual fare has replaced it: loud electronic sounds with a harsh beat. Even before they round the corner, it's obvious that she's there.

The sight of her, though, brings all four of them up short. Abby usually uses NCIS's gym facilities after the day shift ends, and then only for the treadmill and rowing machine. Today, she's slamming her fists repeatedly into a punching bag, scowling fiercely.

With glances at each other, McGee and Tony step back, taking refuge behind Gibbs and Ziva. On another day, he might have been amused, but today he can only ponder one thing: could it be that the source of her fury is jealousy at his lunch date with Allison?

He's not the best person to approach her, in that case. He nods at Ziva, who steps forward. "Abby? What is the matter?"

Abby hits out again, giving a grunt of exertion, before replying. "Men. I'm giving them up. Either I'm joining the nunnery, or I'm sticking to women from now on. What do you think, Ziva? Wanna go lesbian with me?"

Ziva laughs. "I know exactly how you feel, Abby."

"Please tell me you mean that in the physical sense," Tony chips in, and Abby scowls in his direction, faltering when she notices that Gibbs and McGee are there, too.

"Oh, hey… guys… What's up?"

"Training session," McGee supplies, keeping it simple, so as not to attract her wrath.

"Go get changed," Gibbs says mildly, and his agents turn and head for the locker rooms as one, leaving him alone with Abby.

She returns to beating the hell out of the punching bag, telling him, "I'll clear out when they come back, Gibbs."

He reaches over and turns down her music, trying not to stare at the damp patch of her shirt where sweat has trickled between her breasts. "You okay?"

"I'm single," she says shortly, and gives the bag another vicious punch.

"Your decision, or his?" He's glad her focus is on the inanimate object. If she saw the smile he's trying to suppress, the next punch would probably be for him.

"Mine. He got really, really possessive, and not in a good way. He was getting jealous of _Simon_. _Simon_, who has a _boyfriend_. This is why I don't date younger men."

Gibbs hadn't known Abby's replacement was gay; not that it matters. "McGee's younger than you," he points out.

She rolls her eyes, repeating, "This is why I don't date younger men."

He allows himself a smile, then; glad of the age difference between them. "Anything I can do?"

Abby shakes her head. "I'm a big girl now, Gibbs."

"Never thought otherwise." He touches her shoulder lightly, then steps away. "Take your time finishing up. Plenty of room for all of us in here."

She nods, and he continues on his way to the locker room, where McGee and DiNozzo are engaged in shirtless bickering about Abby's mood. A couple of headslaps later, they finish changing into their gym clothing and head out to join Ziva.

He takes a couple of moments before following them, processing what he's just learned. When he steps back into the gym, Abby is gone.


	11. Step Away

**Author's Note**: After much badgering from ncis_love, here's a new chapter. Thanks so much, everyone, for all the feedback. I've got a lot of crap going on at the minute, so it helps. *hugs to all* My hamster (Abe) is running across my keyboard as I do my final checks... I think I've gotten all his 'edits', but if there are random letters in places, that'll be him!

* * *

For the rest of that week, Gibbs' team works the graveyard shift. He sees Abby a few times, but he's usually heading in as she's leaving, so their exchanges are brief. On Friday night, she passes through the bullpen in a dress so sinfully short that he doesn't know where to look, executing a twirl at DiNozzo's request and then running for the elevator with her cell phone pressed to her ear.

Ducky invites them all over for one of his traditional British roast dinners the next night. It's a relaxed affair, as usual, and Gibbs is relieved to notice that the awkwardness between he and Abby has mostly evaporated.

Around an hour after they've left the dinner table, there's a knock at Ducky's front door.

"Are you expecting someone, Ducky?" McGee asks.

Frowning, the medical examiner rises from the couch "No. Abby?"

She shakes her head. "Not me."

The room falls silent as Ducky goes to answer the door. "Can I help you?"

"Is Abby about?" a male voice asks, with a light Scottish accent that Gibbs recognises from somewhere.

When he looks over at Abby, she's staring toward the entryway with an expression of absolute disbelief. After a second, anger moves in to join her shock, and she gets to her feet, picking up DiNozzo's service weapon from the coffee table. "Can I borrow this?"

Blindsided, Tony looks from her to me and back again. "Depends on who you're planning to shoot."

Ducky reappears in the doorway, looking perplexed. "Abby, there's a young Scotsman on my porch asking to see you. He says his name is–"

"Robert Johnston." She scowls, then attempts to check herself a little. "Don't worry, Ducky. I got it."

She only makes it one step toward the door before Gibbs brings her up in her tracks. "Abbs…"

She spins to argue with him, but he holds up a hand. "Two options. One, invite him in so we can keep eyes on you; or two, talk to him on the driveway, where Ziva can cover you from upstairs. Choose."

Abby stalls for a moment, then sighs. "Two."

Gibbs looks over at Ziva. "Go."

She gets to her feet with a grin, glad to be part of the plan. "Do not worry, Abby. I will have your back."

Abby watches her move toward the stairs with a shake of her head. "You're overreacting. He's not the violent type, and civilian gun possession's illegal in Scotland. I just wanna freak him out a little, if it comes to it."

"I agree, but it's better to be safe than sorry, my dear," Ducky says, patting her on the shoulder. "Call us if you need us."

"Thanks," she murmurs, then tucks Tony's gun into one of the pockets of her oversized pants and disappears into the hallway. A second later, they hear her demand, "Rob, what the hell are you doing here?"

"Can I come in?" he asks.

"No! I'm coming out." Footsteps follow, and then the sound of the front door closing, cutting off the chance to hear the conversation. For a second, the remaining occupants of the room stare at each other: Gibbs, McGee, Tony, Ducky and Palmer.

"Wonder what that's about," McGee says, trying to fill the silence.

"Wonder no more, McEavesdropper," Tony tells him, crossing the room to the window and cracking it open just a little.

Gibbs isn't sure whether to commend or condemn him for the action, settling for a murmured, "DiNozzo…"

From outside, Rob's voice is faint, but distinct. "…shutting me out? I thought we had something special."

Abby's voice is louder, given the hard edge of annoyance. "Okay, maybe in your world when someone breaks up with you, that means 'fly overseas to convince her to take you back'. In _my_ world, it means 'she doesn't want you, so let it go'."

A slight pause, and she sighs. "Look… I'm flattered that you feel enough for me to come all the way out here. I am. I just… I can't handle having to account for my whereabouts every hour of every day. You need someone who needs _you_… and I don't."

"I'll back off; I promise."

"Yeah… you're doing a really great job of that."

DiNozzo makes an exaggerated show of wincing, a hand to his heart as if he's been shot, and Palmer grins. McGee's a little more sober about the situation, probably remembering when Abby broke up with him.

"Right, fine. Don't give me a chance to prove myself or anything. Did you meet someone else out here? Is that it?"

"No. I just got a little perspective."

"Wonder what he looks like?" DiNozzo whispers, half-rising from his chair.

"You can ask Ziva later," Gibbs tells him, softly but firmly. "Sit."

"You're scared of commitment," Rob accuses.

Abby laughs, a little bitterly. "I have no problems committing. I just don't commit to people who need to be _committed._ Been there; done that; almost been murdered."

As if he hasn't heard her, Rob continues, "Perspective? What does that even _mean_? What, you came back to your mother country and a wave of brain-dead American patriotism obliterated your common sense?"

"What?"

Gibbs winces right along with everyone else in the room. When Abby uses _that _tone of voice, staying out of her way is the best option by far.

Rob apparently doesn't realise he's moved into deep water. "You Yanks are all the same. You're completely convinced that you're morally superior compared to the rest of us; that you're a gift to the world from God, and that justifies your oil-grabbing wars…"

"Oh, do _not_ even start with me. Just because I'm American, that doesn't mean I support this war."

"Don't give me that bullshit. You work for the US Navy!"

"And a very wise man told me once that you don't have to support the war to support the men and women who are giving up their lives to fight it."

Gibbs suppresses a smile; those are _his_ words.

"Yeah, and I'm sure those men and women sleep toasty warm at night, knowing they've given you access to all the fossil fuels you need at the expense of a few Muslims," Rob retorts.

The next sound is a shocked cry of pain, followed by Abby's voice, low and fierce. "They're dying every day because they enlisted to protect their country, and you do _not_ get to belittle that with your bigoted ranting."

"Did she just slap him?" McGee whispers.

"I think she did," Ducky murmurs, seeming impressed.

"That's hot," DiNozzo says, barely bothering to keep his voice down.

Gibbs grins down at his hands, agreeing with that statement wholeheartedly.

"Starting to wonder why I bothered coming out here," Rob says in an injured tone.

"Do us both a favour, and get the hell away from me. I don't ever wanna see you again; not here, not in Edinburgh, and not in outer damn Mongolia!"

A footstep, and then a scuffle. "Get your hand _off_ me," Abby orders, and every one of the occupants of the living room rises to his feet, ready to go to her aid if needed.

"Come on, love; I'm sorry. I didn't mean to piss you off. Let's sit down and talk about this."

"About what? The bruise I'm gonna have on my arm tomorrow?" A slight pause, and she says evenly, "Step away."

"What the…? Is that a _gun_?"

"It's a SIG Sauer P228. Standard issue for NCIS agents. I can take it apart and put it back together again in under a minute, and I'm not a bad shot at close range."

"I wasn't gonna hurt you. Just… put it down, alright? I'll go." After a second, he gives an audible sigh of relief, and his footsteps begin to retreat.

A few seconds later, Abby lets herself back inside and hands the gun to DiNozzo, her cheeks flushed with anger. "I can't believe that just happened."

Gibbs crosses the room and gently takes hold of her arm, pushing back the slightly torn sleeve of her shirt to examine the skin beneath. There are no marks except for her tattoos. "You okay?"

"You heard, huh?" Is it his imagination, or does she tremble a little at his touch? He knows he should leave the medical examination to Ducky, but when she's looking up at him like that… "I was exaggerating. I won't bruise."

Ziva rejoins them, smiling. "You handled yourself very well out there, Abby."

She shrugs and smiles a little. "It was totally theatrical."

"Can you give us an action replay of the bitch-slap?" Tony wants to know.

"On you?" Abby teases him, settling back into her seat. "Sure."

"It might be worth it."

"Let it go, DiNozzo," Gibbs says.

"Do you think he'll be back?" Palmer asks.

She shakes her head. "He's not used to being around firearms. I think that's the last I'm gonna see of him."

The casual air of the evening has been strained, and after lingering a while to ensure Abby is okay, everyone begins to disperse. Gibbs is the last to leave.

"You need anything, you call me." It's an order, and she knows it.

"Thanks, Gibbs. For having my back, even when I'm shutting you out of stuff." She leans against Ducky's porch railing, glancing over at him and then back out at the quiet street.

"It's unconditional." He kisses her on the cheek, partly out of concern, but mostly because it's the first time he's had the opportunity, since he figured out his feelings for her.

Maybe he lingers a little too long, because she seems a little confused when he draws back; her smile is tinged with sadness. "Gonna miss you when I leave again."

"Think about that next week," Gibbs tells her, hoping he'll be able to follow his own advice.

She nods, remaining where she is and calling a goodbye as he heads down the porch steps toward the solitude of his car. A short drive later, he's back in his basement, contemplating the empty worktable.

He might not have seen Abby's impassioned expression as she defended America's enlisted men and women, but he can imagine it all too well. The residual, fiery anger he'd seen when she came back inside was enough to make him catch his breath, and the image refuses to leave his mind.

Somehow, he gets the feeling that sleep won't come easily tonight.


	12. Decision Made

**Author's Note**: Okay! The turning point, finally. And I'm a little scared, cause I don't know where the fic is going to go now this has happened. XD But here we are. It turned out too long for one chapter (sorry, Hanne... but life is sucky and I'm feeling like donning your evil hat!), so here's one for now and I'll update with another one tomorrow. Promise. It's all written, and it's looooong, but my parents are splitting up, so I don't have much time online at the moment.

I have a fic Twitter feed going, if anyone's bored enough to follow it. My account name is HinkyKinky (as is my fic journal on LiveJournal, incidentally, but I never update it!). I sometimes post silly questions there about which of my WIPs to write... and sometimes I even follow the advice of the people following. XD

* * *

It seems hard to believe that Abby's been back in the States for almost a month. Between their argument, the shifts his team has been working and the Christmas festivities, Gibbs feels like he's hardly seen her at all.

The first thing he has McGee check on Monday morning is that Rob Johnston has left the country. Abby's assessment of the boy is right; he took a flight out to Edinburgh on Sunday morning, and the confirmation of this is enough to make them all relax – for now.

Friday sees Abby bid another fond farewell to everyone, this one a little less tearful than the first. Her flight is in the early hours of Saturday morning, and Gibbs, as the team's other renowned night-owl, is the natural choice to drive her to the airport.

He picks her up outside Ducky's place at two a.m., and they spend the journey talking about her upcoming studies – or rather, Abby does. Gibbs mostly listens; he's missed listening to her enthusiastic chatter about things that interest her.

Around ten minutes away from their destination, Abby mentions Allison Hart again, oh-so-casually. It reminds him that he never asked her why she seemed to think they were a couple. "Why are you so curious about her?"

Abby's eyes widen, and she shifts in her seat, her focus on the road ahead. "Just taking an interest in your life. You never talk about her."

"Nothing to talk about. We have lunch every now and then. Occasionally she drinks my last beer and then leaves me a note to tell me I work too much."

Abby shoots him a sceptical glance. "'Have lunch'? Is _that _what they're calling it these days?"

Gibbs slows the car to a stop at an intersection, then studies her face. His gut tells him he's close to making a breakthrough, and he only has a little while left to make the leap to the truth. "We've never been involved, Abby."

She frowns, doubtful. "Oh, come on… you were _way_ into each other when she first appeared on the scene."

The tug at his gut grows sharper; more defined. "She pissed me off."

"Isn't that like a free ticket to your heart or something?" she teases, though the humour is a little forced.

He rolls his eyes, setting the car in motion again as the lights change. "By that logic, DiNozzo and I have been sleeping together for years."

The unexpected words startle a laugh from her. "Seriously, though. I never came by your place and had to turn around and leave again because you were busy having pre-sex eye-sex with Tony."

"When?"

Abby doesn't reply. It's clear that she's waiting for him to draw his own conclusion.

It takes him a couple of minutes to ransack his memory, and there's only one occasion she could be talking about: the night he'd gotten home to find M. Allison Hart sitting on his couch for the first time, after they'd wrapped up the case involving 'her client'. That was the night that, if he hadn't had his arm in a sling, he would have given in to his irritated intrigue and taken their relationship beyond business.

At least, he thinks it was only that one night. "This back when I hurt my arm?"

Abby's face is turned from him. He wonders what he'd see, if he didn't need to keep his attention on the road. "You're gonna have to narrow it down a little for me, Gibbs. You're always hurt."

"Not hurt now," he points out, but his words are only met with silence. Sighing inwardly, he elaborates, "Same day we wrapped up the first case we worked with her."

"Yeah."

"When I was getting McGee to chauffeur me everywhere because I couldn't drive. When my arm was bound up, and Ducky told me I'd cause permanent damage if I tried to do anything more than move my fingers."

Her voice is softer now; uncertain. "Yeah."

"Hmm." He doesn't bother to point out the rest of his argument. She's already ahead of him.

They arrive at Dulles airport in silence, and Abby begins talking about her trip when it gets too awkward to maintain. He helps her with her luggage, waiting nearby while she trades it in for a boarding pass.

"Guess I'd better get going," she says, when she rejoins him.

"Walk you to the security checkpoint."

On the way, Gibbs turns over this new piece of the puzzle in his mind, twisting it this way and that to see where it fits.

_There was one thing I _hoped_ had changed. But nope. Just the same…_

_I just got a little perspective._

_You didn't _not_ do anything anyone could reasonably be expected to do._

_I never came by your place and had to turn around and leave again because you were busy having pre-sex eye-sex with Tony._

_Why do you need to pin down the exact moment that I decided I wanted to go back to school?_

It seems obvious all of a sudden. What started out as wishful thinking crystallises into a full-blown theory, and judging from the way she reacted when he pointed out the flaws in her logic in the car, it's not too far off the mark.

"That night you saw me with Allison…"

She tenses up instantly, her defences rising. "Huh?"

They stand at the entrance to the checkpoint area; from here, Abby has to go on alone. He can't let the issue drop, though – not when he won't see her for months. It has to be now. "It's when you decided you wanted to get out of DC, isn't it?"

The expression on her face is the only confirmation he needs. And there's no way he's letting her go without kissing her goodbye.

**And so ends Gibbs' POV... Part II deals with Abby's side of things. Hope this is a good move... XD**


	13. Don't Push Me

**Author's Note**: Okay... POV switch. And thank you for all the feedback/support re: yesterday's chapter. Very much appreciated. *hugs to everyone* Now, this is looooong. And there's a rating change.

* * *

**Part II: Abby**

She's been nervous all night, contemplating whether or not to tell Gibbs the truth before fleeing the country. To hear him voice it is both a shock and a relief. "We're gonna have this conversation _now_? I need to get past security, or I'm gonna miss my flight."

"Better start talking, then."

Scowling, she folds her arms defensively across her chest. "You're the one who wants to talk. So, talk. What's your gut saying?"

"That you decided to leave that night, because you needed to get away from me. Because you were hurt that I would break rule thirteen before I'd break twelve for you."

Abby swallows hard. "You've thought an awful lot about this."

"Had a lot of time _to_ think."

She must have been crazy to think that telling him was a good idea. Any minute now, he's gonna tell her that he's flattered, but he just doesn't see her the way she wants him to, and maybe it's a good idea if she stays in Edinburgh after she finishes her studies… "Gibbs, this isn't a good time. If I miss my flight, I'm gonna miss the lecture tomorrow, and I need to be there."

"Hmm." He takes her arm, and for a second she thinks she's won; that he's walking her the final few steps before bidding her farewell. Instead, he keeps on going, flashing his NCIS badge at the security personnel and then taking the nearest guard aside for a murmured conversation.

Abby manages to keep her composure until they pass through the security checkpoint in record time, ushered to the front of the line by the guard. Once they're safely at the other side, she sends an accusatory glance Gibbs' way. "Do you take advantage of your federal privileges often?"

"Nope. Been saving that one for a special occasion."

"What did you tell them?" She seizes the opportunity to change the subject with an inward sigh of relief.

"That you're a high-ranking NCIS employee with has a potentially dangerous stalker, and we suspect he might be lying in wait for you here. You need to get to your destination, and we've cleared the passenger list for your flight, but we want to ensure your safety until you board."

She gasps at his creative take on the situation, punching his arm lightly. "Bad Gibbs!"

He wanders over to the nearest departure screen with an expression that, on Gibbs, qualifies as mischievous. She hasn't seen him this way in… wow, since before she told him she was leaving for Edinburgh. Attraction thrills through her body, and she trails along behind him with a suppressed smile of her own.

Her amusement fades rapidly at his next words. "Your flight's not boarding for at least thirty minutes, which means we have time to talk."

"It's way too public here," she protests, knowing it won't do her a damn bit of good.

"Then let's go somewhere quieter." A smile still tugging at his lips, he beckons for her to follow.

Halfway to her departure gate, she gives up the useless struggle not to entertain hope. The way he's acting is definitely not 'rules are there for a reason, Abby' compatible. "Gibbs… What are we doing?"

"Making sure you don't miss your flight. That a problem?"

Shaking her head, she decides to just wait until he gets around to telling her. By the time they sit down in adjacent chairs within sight of her gate, she's buzzing with anticipation, despite her better judgment.

Gibbs watches her as if memorising her face, and she squirms self-consciously. "Thought you wanted to talk."

"Thought I already did. You wanted privacy…" He indicates the almost deserted seating area around them. No one's within earshot right now, and if someone does come to sit nearby, they can always switch to ASL. "Here we are."

Abby wants so badly to confess every single sinful thought she's ever had about him. A crazy part of her mind even believes that he'd welcome it. But she's wrong. She has to be wrong, because if she's right… "What if I don't wanna talk?"

She must be too wired right now to conceal her conflicted emotions, because he leans in and brushes his lips across her cheekbone, then breathes into her ear, "Then we don't have to."

His confident sensuality sends a shiver of desire down her spine. Still, the analytical part of her brain is still in overdrive. She needs to double-check that she's not drawing the wrong conclusion; it's the scientist in her. "Bet you say that to all your co-workers."

He responds with a grin she sees all too infrequently, trailing a light touch over her neck tattoo. "Abbs, you and I have never been just co-workers, not even on the first day we met."

Remembering that day, when they faced off over her ability to perform accurate forensics and listen to deafening rock music at the same time, she tilts her head to the side to allow him better access to the spider's web inked into her skin. "I wanted you back then… I just didn't want to admit it to myself, because you pissed me off."

He kisses along the same route his fingers have taken, and she closes her eyes with a shaky sigh. "And then because I knew you'd never want a girl like me."

Oh, god, his tongue… If she loses control of herself right now, it's gonna make the second time she's been arrested for indecent exposure, and this time will have airport security footage to go along with it. All she can do is keep talking. "And then… because I almost let myself believe that you would, and then _she_ came along. Black hair and pale skin and intelligent mind… and she swept you away with no effort at all, the way I'd never been able to."

With gentle fingers against her cheek, he turns her face to his. "Wrong."

Their first kiss is a mixture of so many emotions that she can't isolate them all; languorous, expressive and with a hedonistic aftertaste that leaves her desperate for more.

Their second kiss is a searing, breathless craving, cut abruptly by a flight announcement that reminds them just how public this space is. Abby rests her head on Gibbs' shoulder with a frustrated groan. "You pick your moments, Marine."

His fingers lace through hers and squeeze, and his voice is gruff against her hair. "Not psychic. No matter how much you want to believe I am."

"I'll save that discussion for when I'm feeling a little more like debating, and a little less like-"

He squeezes her hand tighter; a warning. "As much as I want you to finish that sentence, I'm just a guy, Abbs."

"I know," she murmurs against his neck. "And I'm just a girl."

"Much, much more than that." Though he doesn't draw away from her, he makes a possessive gesture against her cheek – one he's made before. _My girl_.

It makes her wonder. "When you started to call me that… did you…?"

"Consciously? No." She raises her head to look into his face, curious. It's a mistake – the urge to kiss him again is irresistible. She keeps it slow, teasing him, letting him know with every flick of her tongue that she wants so much more than this.

He breaks off first, uttering her name as if it's half-curse, half-prayer. "Abby…"

"Sorry… Couldn't help it." She turns her back on him, leaning back against his shoulder. "Now I can't get to you."

"But I can get to you," he says, amused.

"That's between you and your exhibitionist streak." His lips press against the back of her neck, between her pigtails, and she shivers. "So when did you…?"

"Walked into your lab the night you came back, and there you were: back at your table, running tests with that god-awful music playing. That's when I knew."

"So I never had a chance before I moved away, huh?" For some reason, it hurts.

"Wrong again," he says, shifting to put his arms around her waist. "Just didn't realise. Why'd you think it bugged me so much that you were leaving?"

"Work-related reasons. Friendship." She sighs, knowing she's being over-sensitive. "I dunno."

People are beginning to populate the seating nearby. Their illusion of privacy is diminishing by the second, but Gibbs doesn't seem to care. He switches seats to be able to see her better, cupping her face in his hand. "Now you do."

He kisses her again, hard and possessive, but brief; drawing away before she can completely melt. Not that it matters; he can turn her on with just a kiss on the cheek. "Giiiiibbs…"

"Still don't feel like skipping your flight?" It's a rhetorical question; he knows she can't stay.

"Oh, you have no idea how much I want to…" She nuzzles his shoulder, then breathes into his ear, "If I did, would you fuck me tonight?"

With a low growl, he digs his fingers into her hips. "Don't push me, Abbs."

She shouldn't. She knows she shouldn't. But her flight will start boarding at any minute, and she won't have this opportunity to feel this heat between them for months. "What if I wanna push you? What if I wanna wrap my legs around your waist and push you so… deep… inside me?"

He draws away from her, gritting out, "If you don't stop, I'm gonna spend the time from now until you get on the plane in a bathroom stall, calming down, not out here with you."

_Be nice, Abby_, one part of her brain advises sternly.

_Hmmm_, muses another part. _Wonder if he'd…_

"How about if I come with you?"

For a second, he just stares at her, as if he can't quite comprehend what she's offering. Abby gives him her most innocent expression, and he laughs softly, murmuring, "Come on; who are you trying to fool?"

She giggles, and he tugs her to her feet at the same instant that the gate attendant announces that the flight is now boarding.

Before Gibbs can change his mind, she takes his hand and pulls him after her, dodging passengers heading toward the queue that's forming in front of the gate.

In her line of vision is a disabled restroom, bigger and more private than the men's or ladies' room stalls would be. Abby goes on ahead, her heart skipping with relief as the door opens to reveal the vacant bathroom within.

Casually, she slips inside, and the door slowly closes after her. A couple of seconds later, it opens again, and Gibbs slams it shut after him, then engages the lock.

Abby reaches for him, and he pins her to the wall with his body, kissing her with a hunger so intense that it makes her knees weak. She moans against his lips, standing on tiptoe to arch her hips forward against his growing erection, and grins up at him when he draws back enough to look at her. "This is kinda skanky, huh?"

"Your idea," Gibbs reminds her, slipping his hand up under her shirt to tease her nipple through the thin satin of her bra cup.

She kisses him again, wrapping one leg around his waist and pressing closer. He shoves her shirt up, then pulls her bra down to turn his tongue to one hard nipple, then the other.

"Want you so much," she whispers, undoing his pants and then purring appreciation at the length and thickness under her hand. "Oh, god, I need you inside me…"

He rubs his fingers over her clit through her panties, his breath coming heavier as she begins to stroke him; down, then up again. "Easy, Abbs… I don't have anything with me."

Another announcement for Abby's flight plays over the sound system, and she whimpers at the reminder that they don't have much time. "I'm on the pill. Now, Gibbs, _please_..."

He tugs her panties to one side and slides his fingers between her thighs, exploring the slick flesh with a startled laugh. "God, you're-"

She presses against his fingertips, desperate for more, and her hand falters against his cock as she tries to stay on her feet. He torments her with his fingers for minutes that seem to race by, and her breath comes in helpless cries, which he muffles with his lips.

The sensation of him pushing inside her is almost enough to take her over the edge, but the pleasure fades as another flight announcement pervades her consciousness. They gaze at each other, arousal and despair mingling in their expressions.

"You should go," he tells her, though how he can even think of ending it now, she has no idea.

"I can still make it if we-"

He doesn't wait for her to end the sentence, pulling almost all the way out of her before pressing in again. Abby raises her leg and braces her foot against the washbasin behind him, letting the wall support her as she rolls her hips forward to meet his thrusts.

He doesn't hold back, slamming into her again and again, until she's gasping and trembling and half-sobbing his name, her palms against his ass, pushing him deeper, deeper…

When she finally falls over the edge, every pulse of her release forces a husky cry from her throat. Gibbs is too close to his own climax to quiet her; he pounds into her a final few times, and then groans his satisfaction into her shoulder, losing awareness of everything.

Abby has no idea how they manage to stay standing, but somehow they manage it; supporting themselves against the wall, struggling for breath. She runs her fingers through his hair, and after a few moments he raises his head from her shoulder to look into her face.

She smiles tiredly. "Hi."

"Hey," he murmurs against her lips, then kisses her softly.

"_This is an announcement for passenger Abigail Sciuto._"They both freeze at the sound of her name, staring at each other as the attendant rattles off Abby's flight number. "_Please make your way immediately to the departure gate."_

Abby groans, looking down at her dishevelled clothing. "I just wanna go to sleep…"

Gibbs holds her close for a few seconds, then steps back, doing up his pants. "C'mon. You can sleep on the plane."

With his help, she straightens herself up, scrubbing off the remainder of her lipstick and re-doing her pigtails, tugging her clothing back into place and locating her hand luggage. She won't win any style contests, but at least it won't be immediately obvious that she's just been fucked senseless against a bathroom wall.

She hopes, anyway.

The announcement repeats just as she turns to face Gibbs, and she scowls at the words that accompany it. _"This is a final call."_

"I don't wanna leave," she tells him, stricken.

Gibbs kisses her forehead gently. "Go, Abbs. Call me when you get there."

"I love you," she whispers.

His answer is to press his lips to hers firmly; urgency and tenderness in one brief kiss. His smile is small, but genuine. "I know. Go."

She hesitates, and he gives her a nudge. "If you don't get out of here now, I'll never touch you again. _Go._"

They both know he couldn't carry out that threat, but since he'd only step away if she tried to kiss him again, she can make her legs carry her in the direction they need to go. With a tiny wave, she turns and runs from the bathroom, across the corridor and up to the gate, just in time.

"I'm so sorry, I lost track of time, and I…" Abby looks up from digging her boarding pass out of her pocket to find the attendant grinning at her. "Sorry."

"Hit it off with one of the passengers from another flight, huh?"

Abby bites her lip, embarrassed. "Something like that." It's too complicated to explain how Gibbs is on this side of the security checkpoint when he doesn't plan to fly.

The girl, who's barely out of her teens, leans forward conspiratorially. "It happens. And just in case you were worried, by the time you really started making a noise, there was no one else around to hear it."

Okay, now she's _really_ embarrassed. "Thanks… I think."

"Just between you and me," the attendant says, scanning the boarding pass, "you have good taste. Okay, he's a little older than I'd go for, but wow, he's _hot._ Did you get his number? Gonna see him again?"

Despite the situation, the questions strike Abby as funny. Grinning, she nods. "Yes, and oh my god, _yes._"

With a wink, the attendant hands back a section of the boarding pass. "Enjoy your flight… and I'd pretend you've been running all the way from the concourse, if I were you. The flight crew and the other passengers are gonna be pissed that you're late."

"Thanks." With a final glance behind her at the empty seating area, Abby turns and runs down the walkway to the plane, putting on her most apologetic face for the air hostess awaiting her.

As she's shown to her seat, there's slow, sarcastic applause from a few of the passengers. Abby tunes it out, buckling her seatbelt with a sad smile.

Gibbs feels as much for her as she does for him. She's gonna need a few more hours to really process that. Right now, she can hardly believe that they just had mind-blowing sex in the time it took for a flight to board, and that now she won't see him for months.

Luckily, she has the duration of a long-haul flight to come to terms with it, starting with the moment he told her, in an intimate whisper, that they didn't _have_ to talk…

* * *

***ahem* Yeah. I did plan a kiss... but yeah. Now what? I have no idea. I'll probably hop to writing another WIP while I think it over.**


	14. At Least a Minute

**Author's Note**: I'm working on a lot of original stuff at the moment - I'm doing an unofficial NaNoWriMo this month, and I'm nearly 35K into a novel - but I had a Gabby craving today. And thank you to April for the poke on Twitter. ;) Hope everyone's having a good March!

* * *

"Yeah. Gibbs."

"Hi." Abby stretches out on her bed, her suitcase unopened in the corner of the room. Her flight was long but uneventful, and after reuniting with Emma and Rachel, she's excused herself to unpack and shower after her long journey.

That can wait, though.

"Hey, Abbs." She can hear the smile in his voice, and the part of her that was nervous that he might have second thoughts relaxes. "How was your flight?"

"Not as good as the part before I got on the plane… but it was okay."

He laughs softly, and she feels his absence like a physical ache. "I miss you."

Gibbs sighs, and she closes her eyes as he says, "Yeah, I know. Me too."

"I screwed up."

"Nah. If anyone screwed up, it was me. If it wasn't for rule twelve, you would have said something."

Her smile is bittersweet. "Maybe. Maybe not. Guess we'll never know."

"Good attitude. Guess what we need to think about is where we go from here."

Abby thinks that through. "I could come home."

"The hell you will." The words are harsh, but his tone is mild. "You're not giving up on this because of me."

"I guess." She pulls the ties from her pigtails and runs her fingers through her hair. "I mean, Simon will get all pissed off if I cut his NCIS employment short."

"Couldn't care less about that," he says wryly, and she grins.

"Poor Simon. He's innocent in all this, you know."

I know," he murmurs. "Doesn't mean I can't want you back where you belong."

"Yeah? Where's that?" she teases.

"Right here, with me."

"So possessive, Agent Gibbs." She loves being able to banter with him the way she's always wanted to. "That's kinda hot."

"Uh-huh." Moving past the compliment, he tells her, "I have vacation time I never take. Someday soon, I'll use some of it to come and see you."

She imagines him here, in this room with her, and a thrill goes through her skin. "You'd do that for me?"

He sounds amused. "You're the only one I'd do it for, Abbs. You hadn't figured that out by now?"

"It's starting to sink in," she murmurs. "Now I really wish you were here."

"It'll be Spring Break before you know it."

"They don't have Spring Break over here. They have the 'Easter holidays'."

"Don't tell DiNozzo that. He'll go into mourning for the entire UK." There's interference on Gibbs' end, which means he's probably in his basement. "You should get some rest, Abbs. Pretty sure you're gonna go into Caf-Pow! withdrawal soon."

"Don't remind me." Abby digs around in her bag, trying to find her towel. "Need to shower first."

"Wish I could help you with that." He doesn't flirt with the verbosity most of her dates have, but the things he says have twice the impact on her.

"Me too. You have no idea…"

"Yeah, I do." His voice is a low growl, and she shivers in response, wishing so hard for his arms around her, his breath on her skin… "Go on, Abbs. Have fun."

He hangs up before she can say anything else, leaving her open-mouthed with surprise. Did he just tell her to…?

"He did," she murmurs to her reflection in the dressing table mirror, through lips that can't stop smiling.

Gibbs might not be within reach, but her imagination her imagination has always been above average. She guesses that until they meet again, that's gonna have to do.

* * *

The weeks that follow are long. Really, really long.

Abby divides her time between her studies, bartending and sleep, with the occasional day spent with Ducky's family. She keeps a wary eye out for Rob, her newest psycho ex, but he keeps his distance. She guesses that having a gun pulled on him was enough to throw ice water on his ardour.

And speaking of ardour…

She and Gibbs talk every night, before she sleeps. Usually that's around two in the morning for Abby, which means Gibbs is more often than not home from work by then, considering the time difference. When he works nights, he makes time to call her, and she doesn't rest easy until she hears his voice.

She'd never imagined having phone-sex with him before, because being in a position that would make phone-sex an option had seemed so impossible to her. Now she whispers to him in the dark, the bedcovers slipping down her body as his voice murmurs things she'd hardly dared to dream of, responding to her seductive comments with growled demands that she's more than happy to fulfil.

That's only a couple of times a week, though. The rest of the time they discuss anything and everything – the past and the future as well as the present. She still does the majority of the talking, but he gradually lets down the barriers he puts up against the world, allowing certain details through that would previously have been forbidden to her.

He has a dangerous job, and even before they became an item – as much of an item as two people can be on opposite sides of the Atlantic, anyhow – she worried about him getting shot or stabbed or blown up. Again. With all this distance between them, she can't tell if he's really okay, or whether he's sitting there with a broken arm and just sparing her the details.

She makes sure to check in with the rest of the team, partly because she misses them, but partly to check that there's nothing he's trying to shield her from. Maybe it's because she's been in love with him for years, but no one seems to catch on to the fact that she's now protective of him on a whole new level.

Well, nobody except for Ducky. What he hadn't already guessed by December, she'd confided in him by January. When she told him that she and Gibbs had sorted out their differences, he'd laughed and said that from the spring in Gibbs' step, he'd already assumed as much.

Now it's the second week in February, and she's trying to get through the week without registering the endless stream of Valentine's Day advertisements for cards, chocolate, flowers, stuffed animals… If she was back in her own lab, she'd be fine – she'd have sent out Valentines to everyone she knows.

This year, she keeps her head down. She has e-cards set up to automatically post out to her closest friends – many of them on Team Gibbs, naturally – at midnight, and she's made cards for Emma and Rachel, her 'roomies'.

As for Gibbs… she sent a package to him last week, and hopes it'll get to him by the fourteenth. She's not exactly in the mood for V-Day this year, since her boyfriend – can she even call Gibbs a 'boyfriend', at his age? – will be thousands of miles away while couples all over the world are cuddling up.

On Valentine's Day itself, she decides to visit one of her favourite places – the Edinburgh Dungeon. She plans to travel southward to visit the two other Dungeons – one in York and the other in London – before she goes back to DC at Easter.

One thing that amuses her is how the local people she knows react, when she tells them what she plans to do. They act as though there's a huge distance between each of the cities she plans to visit in one weekend, though there's only a few hours' drive between them.

Then again, none of them have ever made the trek from Louisiana to DC in a rickety old hearse that's prone to breaking down.

Abby pays the entry charge and banters with the tour guides as she progresses through the different sections of the museum. They all seem to single her out – the benefits of an 'alternative' style of dress – but she's always willing to play along with them.

As she walks out into the sunlight, wishing Ducky and Palmer had been in there with her – they'd probably have more to tell her about medieval torture and grave-robbing than the tour guides – her Gibbs-dar goes off. Which is impossible. Wishful thinking, no doubt triggered by the guy selling heart-shaped balloons across the street. Stupid Valentine's Day.

She gets about four steps down the street when a hand touches her arm, and she catches her breath at the familiar voice in her ear. "Got a second?"

Spinning to throw her arms around his neck, she laughs at herself. Her Gibbs-dar is never wrong, after all. It doesn't always work – he's too stealthy for that – but she's never had a false positive. "For you? At _least_ a minute."

Gibbs pulls her backward, out of the path of the rest of the people leaving the museum, until his back hits the side of the building. Slowly, she remembers how to pull back enough to look at him. "What are you doing here?"

"Valentine's Day," he says, as if it's the most natural thing in the world. His body language is clear – he wants to kiss her, and kiss her hard. Watching his gaze flick down to her lips, back up to her eyes, she wonders if he knows how sexy he is.

"Gibbs…" There are no words to express how she's feeling. She kisses him instead, his warm lips a welcome substitute to the cold February air.

His arms tighten around her as he deepens the kiss, and a tiny part of her marvels at his willingness to make out with her in the middle of the street. Then even that is silenced, replaced by the longing to be somewhere considerably more private.

When he breaks off, she sighs against his neck, nuzzling the warm skin and relishing his familiar scent. "I missed you so much."

His fingers stroke down one of her pigtails as his lips graze the top of her head. "Now you don't have to."


	15. Together Alone

**Author's Note**: Hey, all - sorry for the wait on this one. I couldn't get into the Gabby-in-Scotland vibe for a while. Then ncislove regaled me with stories about how she MET MARK HARMON THREE DAYS IN A ROW at his charity baseball game at the weekend, and suddenly I had plenty of smutspiration. And jealousy. Mostly jealousy. ;) Anyway, this chapter is for her. She knows why!

* * *

When they get back to the house, Emma and Rachel are nowhere to be found. There's a note by the coffeemaker, though, and Abby reads it with a rapidly growing smile.

_Abby,_

_Hope you're enjoying your Valentine's Day. I think I must have forgotten to mention to you that I'll be staying with a friend for a couple of nights – how silly of me! And Rachel is staying with her father._

_Something tells me you'll be okay 'on your own' for a few days... See you on Thursday!_

_Emma_

Forgoing the idea of coffee, Abby abandons the note and heads back into the living room, straight into Gibbs' arms. He looks thoroughly pleased with himself, and she doesn't even bother to ask whether he's behind this. Of course he is.

She presses herself close, leaving a trail of ravenous kisses from his lips down to his throat. He slides his hands up under her shirt, his fingers cold from the February air outside, and she gasps, twisting away from him with a breathless laugh. "Your hands are like ice!"

"That's why I suggested coffee first," he tells her, and she takes one step back toward the kitchen before he grabs her, tugging her over to the couch and into his lap. With a quick glance at the mysteriously closed drapes over the windows that look out onto the street, Abby straddles him and slips her hands to the back of his neck, smiling down at him.

"Unless I've been doing it wrong, this isn't exactly coffee." She feels his growing arousal between her thighs and shimmies against him, rewarded by his low growl of encouragement.

"Abbs, _nothing_ you're doing right now is wrong." He guides her lips down to his, the kiss beginning soft and slow, then increasing in urgency until Abby gives a soft moan, leaning back to break off.

"Touch me..."

He raises an eyebrow at her. "Hands are still cold."

"Don't care." She kisses him again, her tongue coaxing him to continue, and shivers with a combination of desire and cold as he runs his fingers up her sides, beneath her shirt, then teasing her nipples through the lace of her bra. Breaking the kiss, Abby watches him watch her, taking the time they didn't have back at the airport last month.

Gibbs gives her the look he always does when he's trying to work out her train of thought – somewhere between quizzical and intrigued. They're not at work, so the impatience that often goes along with it is missing.

"Just wondering where to start." Abby runs her fingers lightly down his face, intent on savouring everything.

He cups her waist and shifts his weight a little, his hard cock exactly where she wants him. She grinds down against him with a purr, fighting the urge to just shed her pants, work down his and guide him home without any further foreplay. But they went there so fast at the airport – desperate and rushed, when all she wanted was to spend hours exploring the body she's fantasised about for years.

He sees the conflict in her expression, and understanding dawns. "We have time, Abbs."

She buries her face in his neck, inhaling his scent and then giving into the temptation to kiss his neck. "I want you now – so, so much – but there's so much I planned to…" She trails off, unable to express it properly.

"I was on the other end of those phone calls, remember?" His voice is softly amused against her ear. "I have plans, too. Made a lot of 'em on the flight here. Plan to make a dent in the list by the time I fly out again."

"Good to know." Abby wriggles a little, rewarded by his sigh and the tightening of his hands on her waist. "So what you're saying is 'run now, walk later'?"

"Something like that." He tucks his hands into the back pockets of her oversized black jeans and moves against her again. "You're thinking too hard."

"This is me. You expected something else?" Her smile is self-deprecating, but she's reassured by his words.

"No." He pulls her down into another heated kiss, and his hands are no longer unbearably cold against her skin. Abby takes that as a sign, and strips off her shirt of her own accord, breaking off only for as long as it takes to pull the unwanted garment over her head. Gibbs unsnaps her bra immediately, and it joins the shirt somewhere on the floor.

His tongue against her nipples is a remembered pleasure that's kept her head in the clouds for the past month. She gasps his name, partly because she can, and partly because he told her last week on the phone that hearing her say it turns him on. He bites down gently, and she outright moans in response.

Before she can register what's happening, he has her pinned to the couch, his hands at her waistband, unsnapping the button there and tugging down the zipper. She wriggles out of her jeans and panties as he sheds his shirt and pants, and the second he sits down again, she climbs back into his lap, sinking onto him without a second of teasing.

"God, Abbs." She feels his gaze like a caress as he looks over her naked body for the first time. His fingers move over tattoos he didn't see during their hurried encounter in the airport bathroom, tracing the inked lines so lightly that she tingles and writhes against him.

He pulls her tight against his body, driving deeper, and she begins to take him, letting instinct guide her movements. His lips seek hers again, forceful and filled with frustrated need, and she nips his lower lip briefly, feeling it curve in the beginnings of a smile.

"Is it-?" Her words turn into a sharp gasp as his hand moves between their bodies, circling her clit with infuriating laziness.

Subtly pleased with her reaction, he trails off, raising an eyebrow at her whimper of protest. "You say something?"

"No." Knowing the man as she does – okay, knowing what his reaction will do to _her_ as she does – Abby puts her own fingers into play where he left off, giving a soft moan that's only half for effect. His expression is one she doesn't see often, but it thrills her every time – a kind of dawning _did she say/do what I think she did?_ which evolves into the kind of surprised appreciation that can keep her in happy daydreams for hours.

He growls her name in a way that brings an instant surge of gratification, his palms pressing against her lower back as he leans in to taste her nipples again. It takes her only a few heartbeats more to lose it completely, letting waves of intense pleasure carry her far from the shores of composure.

Gibbs' arms close tight around her as he thrusts up a final few times, taking his own release with his face buried in her neck. They collapse back against the couch cushions in breathless satisfaction, and Abby runs her fingers up and down his neck as they calm slowly.

"Still cold?" The question is dry and rhetorical – though they'll soon begin to feel a chill, right now they're both the complete opposite of cold.

She sits back to look at him, shaking her head, and can't help but lean in for a kiss at the relaxed, almost carefree expression on his face. She hadn't been able to stick around long enough to see him like this at the airport, and it's hot beyond words.

"Earlier, I was trying to say…" The feel of his arms around her, and his scent surrounding her, make her a little too comfortable, and she has to concentrate to recover her train of thought. "Is it weird to have missed something so much, even though you only experienced it once before?"

Amused, he kisses her forehead. "Know the feeling."

As the sweat cools on their bodies, Abby begins to shiver. Gibbs instantly nudges her out of his lap, reaching for his shirt. She slips it on, looking down at the oversized fit, and then grins at him. "This isn't the first time I've worn your shirts."

"I remember." His eyes travel over her bare legs, where the shirt doesn't reach. "Every damn time you borrowed one to sleep in, I had to get out of there to calm down."

Fascinated by the new revelation, she stares at him. "But I always wore pants underneath."

"Not the point." Before she can consider that any more, he gets up and pulls on his jeans. "Wanna show me where the shower is?"

She pretends to think about it. "Can I watch?"

He heads for the door with a deadpan look back at her, correctly guessing that the shower is upstairs. "Sure… if that's _all_ you wanna do."

Abby is dashing after him before he's even finished the sentence.


	16. Dirty in the Shower

**Author's Note**: Thanks for your patience in between updates - I'm a little distracted from fandom at the moment! This one is for ncislove, who is not patient at all and pestered me until I updated. Now shush, Hanne! :p**  
**

* * *

Pausing only to turn up the thermostat a few degrees, Abby leads the way into the bathroom. While she turns on the shower on the wall over the bathtub, Gibbs sheds his jeans again, and then pulls her into his arms for another long, slow kiss.

Warm steam begins to fill the room, and Abby leaves a trail of appreciative kisses along his collarbones and over his chest, reaching down between them to tease his already hardening cock. "Ready to go again so soon? That's actually pretty impressive. I've dated men twenty years younger than you who needed longer to recover."

He nips her neck with a wordless growl of pleasure, though whether it's at her touch or her compliment, she's not sure. When he runs a thumb over her taut nipple, she sighs, pressing against his hand. "Slower this time?"

"Mm-hmm."

They take their time in the shower, standing under the spray together to start with; his arms around her waist, her back against his chest. The warm water washes away the sweat of their exertion, and Gibbs kisses the side of her neck softly. "C'mon, Abbs. Lose the pigtails."

Why is it that even that simple statement makes her impossibly turned on? She pulls the ties from her hair, and it falls down around her face in waves, damp from the water but not completely saturated. Gibbs turns her to face him, running his fingers through her loose hair with a slight smile. "Haven't seen you like this in a long time."

"Not since that CyberVid killer put the janitor-cam on me… wow, that really _was_ a long time ago." She feels a strange combination of familiarity and vulnerability, now that they've taken out their initial, frustrated lust upon each other and he's looking at her with such tenderness.

Gibbs cups her face in his hand, looking as though he's gonna say something else, but whatever it is, he changes his mind. Instead, he gives her a brief kiss and then tilts her head further under the water, soaking her hair. "There shampoo around here?"

The corners of the tub are strewn with different hair products, most of them Emma's. "I think it's safe to say the answer is 'yes'." After a second, she locates her shampoo and hands it over with a flourish.

Gibbs proceeds to lather up her hair, then begins to give her the scalp massage of her life. Abby sighs appreciatively. "And I thought no one could beat Palmer in the massage department."

His fingers still against her head. "There something you need to tell me, Abby?"

She giggles. "Don't be jealous. Palmer just has this anatomical knowledge that-"

"Abby…"

Turning in his arms, she kisses him affectionately. "He gave me a shoulder massage at work. Like, once. For less than ten seconds before McGee and Tony chased him off."

"Uh-huh." He's half-amused, half-possessive. She's always loved it when he looks at her this way, and feels a tug of desire between her thighs.

"You _are_ jealous." He tastes the lust in her next kiss, and tightens his arms around her. She provokes him in a different way, beginning to stroke up and down his erection again. "You don't need to be. Every time anyone's touched me for the past ten years, I've wished it was you…"

Gibbs groans as she finds her rhythm, distracted from his task. "Damn it, Abbs... thought you wanted to go slow?"

"I do."

"Then you better stop that." From the expression on his face, he can't believe he's saying the words, but Abby heeds them, turning her back on him again and waiting expectantly for him to finish with her hair.

His hands are a little rougher as he rinses away the soap, sexual frustration lending an edge to his movements. Once her hair is clean, Abby turns to look up at him again, and the obvious desire in his eyes just makes her want to encourage it.

"Gibbs?" Once she's sure he's focusing on her words, she whispers in his ear, "Let me watch you."

He doesn't fully understand until she takes hold of his cock again, but as she turns her complete attention to the task of getting him off, he puts an arm out to the tiled wall for support, his eyes on hers, but hazy with lust. Free of the distractions of his touch, Abby watches him, resisting the urge to just guide him inside her and concentrate on her own pleasure.

"Wanna know a secret?" The words are out of her mouth before she realises it, but now there's no going back. "Remember the time I stayed at your house when my apartment flooded, and you guys got called into work and I had some time off?"

He nods, his gaze sharpening as he focuses on her words. Just the way she wants it. Keeping her hand at work, she murmurs, "I knew you wouldn't be back for hours, so I went into your bedroom."

His imagination is skipping ahead now; he can guess what she's about to say, if not exactly how she's gonna say it. His breath is heavy as he gives her a swift, hard kiss, and she swallows the urge to beg him to fuck her. "I lay down on your bed, and I could smell you on the sheets, and I just couldn't help myself."

The arm that isn't bracing him against the wall is around her waist, and he curls his fingers tighter against her skin. "Abby…"

"I wanted to strip naked, but I didn't want to leave too much of my scent on your sheets, cause then you'd know. So I just slipped my hand into my panties and closed my eyes and pretended you were there with me."

He's close now, so close, and she doesn't let up for one second, watching his eyes fall closed and his jaw tighten against a moan. "I fucked myself on your bed, Gibbs, and the whole time, I was pretending it was you inside me instead of my fingers, your hand stroking my clit. And I'd never come so hard in my life as I did then, right there where I wanted you to take me-"

The image is the last push over the edge he needs, and he comes hard, unable to suppress a satisfied cry. He sways a little on his feet, leaning further against the wall and pressing his forehead against the cold tiles. Abby kisses his shoulder with an accomplished smile, watching him recover.

Once he regains his equilibrium, Gibbs pulls her into his arms, nuzzling her neck. "Was that actually true, or did you make it up?"

"One hundred per cent true! That's one of my dirty little Gibbs-related secrets. And no, I'm not gonna tell you them all now. A girl's gotta have some mystique. Now, speaking of dirty…" After locating the shower gel, she begins to wash him, ignoring her own hot and bothered state.

"You know, once we get out of this shower I'm gonna tie you to your bed and not let you come until you tell me at least one more."

Anticipation thrills through her veins, and she picks up the shower gel bottle again, this time with businesslike purpose. "Kinky! You promise?"

The heated glance he shoots her way is the only response she needs.


	17. Can't Rush Science or Art

**Author's Note**: Yes! I am alive! Aaaand seriously busy, so I'm only finding time to fic because it's ncislove's birthday and she has been... um... _persistent_ in her demands for more of this fic. So happy birthday, Hanne, and this totally earns me a guilt-trip free week now, yes? :p

* * *

When Abby's done blow-drying her hair, she wanders into her room to locate Gibbs. The bedroom drapes are drawn, but he's nowhere to be seen.

She doesn't bother to dress – he'll have her out of her clothes again soon enough, and the thought makes her want to twirl around in happy circles. Wearing only her towel, she gets halfway down the stairs before he appears at the bottom, naked from the waist up.

"You're overdressed, Marine," she teases, and her heart skips at his slow smile. Knowing he wants her is one thing, but seeing it on his face this clearly is something else entirely. Since their night of hurried sex at the airport, she's only been able to imagine his reactions to her provocative words over the phone. The heat in his expression makes her breathless.

"So are you." He reaches up, and she descends a couple more stairs to put his fingers within reach of the hem of her towel, which falls to her mid-thighs.

One tug, and the loosely anchored makeshift garment piles around her ankles. He doesn't waste any more time on it, instead leaning forward, up the stairs, to trail kisses across her tattooed thighs.

Her pulse pounds, and unthinking, she moves down one more step. He kisses the top of each thigh lightly, then raises an eyebrow. "Better go back upstairs, Abbs. Don't want you to fall."

Fighting twin urges to laugh and to whimper with need, Abby turns and heads back up to the landing, shivering at the sound of his measured footsteps following her.

Gibbs slips warm hands over her hips, nudges her gently towards the bedroom. Anticipation steals her voice, but she takes the hint.

As soon as she crosses the threshold, he pulls her into his arms and kisses her, slow and deep, and she shivers with desire. They have all night, and she can tell his focus is completely on her pleasure, now. It's clear in the way he draws her down to the bed with him, and the way he pulls back to watch her, a slight smile touching his lips, as she sits on the edge of the bed.

He's semi-hard again, and Abby yearns to tug his jeans down, to take his thick cock in her mouth, to taste him for the first time. Gibbs reads the thought in her expression, and he shakes his head, amused. "My turn, Abby."

She's always loved the way he says her name. The way he meets her eyes, gives just a split-second's hesitation before ending a sentence with it. As though it's something to be cherished as it leaves his lips, whether it's 'Abby' or 'Abbs'.

She nods, leans back on her hands and waits for him. He reaches past her, under her pillow, and pulls out something he's hidden there – black silk scarves. Two of them.

Thrilling inwardly, she reaches out to take one from him. "And here I thought you were more of a handcuff guy."

He runs the other scarf up her body – the barest whisper of silk over her thighs, her clit, her stomach, then her nipples. "Handcuffs get uncomfortable after a while."

Abby can't help but be a little disappointed. "All these years, and you've missed the signs that I kinda like pain?"

Gibbs takes her wrist, begins to tie the scarf around it, and the casual note in his voice makes her head spin. "Nah. There's a time and a place for that, but for now, I want your mind completely on what I'm gonna do to you."

"Which is…?" she whispers, wriggling a little against the bed as he secures her wrist to the headboard.

The corners of his mouth twitch, but he makes no reply until her other hand is tied as well as the first. Then he leans down to kiss her, his tongue finding hers for a brief moment before he draws away.

"What I do best. Investigate."

_Oh_, she thinks hazily, as he brushes her loose hair away from the tattooed spiderweb on her neck. And then, when he leans in to trace its outline with his tongue: _Oh, god…_

He's slow and thorough, taking his time, kissing a sensuous trail down her throat and across her collarbones. He stretches out beside her, propped up on one elbow and cupping her breast with his free hand as he kisses lower with infuriating slowness. The rough denim of his jeans lightly abrades her hip and outer thigh, adding extra sensations to the experience. By the time he reaches the slopes of her upper breasts, Abby is tugging at the scarves that bind her, murmuring pleas for him to take her, to taste her.

"Aren't you always telling me you can't rush science?" He circles one of her nipples with a lazy fingertip, and she bites back a curse.

"Sex isn't science, Gibbs."

"I know." He's pleased with himself – too pleased by _far_. "It's an art. Can't rush art, either. It was you who told me that, too, as I recall."

If she could have covered her face with her hands in pure frustration, she would have at that moment. As it is, she just yanks fruitlessly at her bonds again, and feels his breath warm her nipple as he gives a soft laugh.

"Gibbs-"

She breaks off with a gasp as he draws the sensitive nub into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue and sending a surge of heat right down between her thighs. When he's taking her fast and hard, he's good – but when he really puts his mind to driving her crazy, he's even better. Abby twists her body, trying to rub her aching clit against his thigh, but he gives her ass a sharp spank instead of obliging her, then raises his head to gaze at her.

"Don't make me tie your legs, too."

Startled and turned on by the slap, which was barely enough to sting, Abby tries to muster her best pleading look. "Do I have to beg?"

He squeezes one of her nipples lightly, and she arches her back, seeking as much stimulation as she can get. It's nowhere near enough, but when she whimpers with need, he answers her at last.

"I'm not trying to get you to beg, Abby. You know what I want."

While she racks her brains, trying to think straight so she can comply with whatever it is he wants, Gibbs trails his lips across the undersides of her full breasts, then across her sensitive abdomen with its plethora of tattoos. Distracted by the slow, inexorable progress of his kisses and caresses, she can't grab her train of thought for precious moments.

_My dirty little Gibbs-related secrets_, she remembers at last, stifling a moan as he nuzzles her right hip. "Okay, okay!"

He doesn't even look up, sprinkling butterfly kisses across her pubic bone, so close to her clit that she can feel the warmth of his breath on her skin. She whimpers, bucks her hips, but instead of taking the hint he moves way too low, planting kisses just above her kneecap.

"Okay _what_, Abby?"

The wet heat between her legs drives her halfway to insanity. She spreads her thighs further, shivering as the cooler air in the room brushes her overheated labia.

"I…" She scrambles for something to appease him, and seizes on one of the most vivid recollections of her covert Gibbs-objectification days. "Remember that Halloween I came to the office in costume?"

He nuzzles her inner thigh, making her breath catch and her pussy tingle. "The Marilyn one?"

She'd thought she'd have to narrow it down – he's seen her in two or three other costumes over the years – but he already seems to know. With a slight frown, she asks, "How did you know I meant that one?"

Running his finger up and down her thigh, in no rush to get anywhere, he smiles. "Cause when I look back, I should have realised I wanted you right then."

Abby wishes he'd untie her - wants to straddle his lap and tease his cock and ask him exactly what he means by that. Instead, she can only shift her hips and hope he takes the hint to touch her, _please, god…_

"Tell me your secret, Abbs…" He rests his thumb so lightly over her clit that she can hardly feel it, and yet it makes her gasp out with need. By the time she can coordinate her body to move into his touch, he's already pulling away, one eyebrow rising expectantly.

She closes her eyes, a faint flush of embarrassment warming her skin. "You gave me this _look_, like you were realising I was more to you than just plain old Abby. I swear to god, my knees almost gave out. I don't even know how I managed to get through my report without turning into a nervous wreck."

"You did pretty well." Gibbs speaks so close to her skin, she can feel every word, his breath caressing her clit and almost driving her out of her mind.

"Gibbs, please… you're driving me crazy-"

"Are you finished?"

"No, but…"

He waits, kissing the tops of her thighs, and she can feel the slight curve of his lips. She loves that he's enjoying it, but god, how can he expect her to _think_ when she wants him this badly, let alone speak?

"You were still in my lab when Ziva found you, and you were pissed at her, remember?" She knows he does. "So you laid into her and left, and I asked Ziva what the deal was. All she said was, 'I think he's planning on devouring me'."

Opening her eyes, she watches Gibbs watching her, the insistent pulse of desire between her legs growing stronger. "I was standing there in my Marilyn outfit, my panties were soaked from the way you'd been looking at me, and all I could do was wish you'd come back, push me up against the wall and devour _me_ in the sexiest possible way – oh, _fuck_!"

He finally rewards her, dipping his head between her legs and seeking her needy clit with warm, firm strokes of his tongue. She tugs at the scarves tethering her to the bed again, knowing nothing will come of it but unable to keep still. "Oh, my god, more, please, please…"

Gibbs is in no hurry to get her off, though. He takes his time, exploring her with his mouth, focusing delicious attention on her clit one moment, then easing off the next. She almost sobs his name, so frustrated that tears come to her eyes, and he at last slips his fingers into her, slow and deep and oh-so-fucking good…

She bucks against his hand, the combination of his fingers and his tongue almost pushing her over the edge. He takes the hint, letting her fuck herself on his hand while he focuses on her clit with flick after flick of his devious tongue.

Abby trembles and gasps, writhes against Gibbs' touch for brittle moments of perfect, agonising pleasure, forgetting everything but the need to move against him. Then, at last, her mind shatters as waves of intense ecstasy overwhelm everything. She cries out so loudly the entire street can probably hear her, then collapses back against the mattress, quivering with blissful aftershocks.

Gibbs pulls away from her oversensitive body for long enough to untie her wrists, which feel only slightly sore. He draws her into his arms, murmuring something unintelligible into her neck as he holds her.

Abby drifts for a couple of minutes, coming down from the incredible high of being completely at Gibbs' mercy. Once her world stabilises again, she draws back enough to thank him with a lingering kiss. "Wow, I can hardly move."

"Then don't."

He has every right to look smug and self-satisfied after making her come so hard, but his gaze is just warm and a little amused. She loses herself in his warmth and the scent of his skin, until he speaks again.

"Out of interest, what did you say to Ziva?"

Abby remembers her own wistful words clearly. "I said, 'And they say blondes have all the fun'."

Gibbs laughs softly. "If I hadn't been so busy trying to find that missing kid, I probably would have been back to see the blonde pretty soon after that."

Abby sighs, burrowing further into his embrace. "I spent the whole week after Halloween waiting for you to come to me and look at me that way again. But then along came an Army Lieutenant Colonel… so I told myself to get over it."

Gibbs kisses her forehead with a sigh. "Sometimes you can't see the forest for the trees, Abbs. I wish I'd put it together sooner, you know that."

She shrugs off the brief moment of melancholy and kisses him again. "We're making up for lost time now."

"Mm-hmm." He traces a finger across her collar bone. "How many more secrets do I have to interrogate out of you?"

"Enough to keep you busy for a couple of years, at least," she teases.

He sits up and pulls her with him, smiling. "Gonna need coffee before I get back to that, then."

"You bring your own with you?" Abby pulls on an oversized sweater and some panties, then leads him downstairs.

"No, I plan to drink the instant stuff Ducky brought back to DC with him last time he came over here." The sarcasm is mild, but definitely there.

Remembering the look of absolute disgust that crossed Gibbs' face when he tasted Ducky's Scottish instant coffee, Abby bursts into laughter as she heads into the kitchen.

She knows she'll feel Gibbs' absence keenly once he leaves for DC, but for now, life is perfect. She pushes the rest from her mind and focuses on the moment.

* * *

**Non-smutty chapters come next, I swear! Getting back to some plot would probably be a good move...**


	18. Exception

**Author's Note**: A bit of an odd chapter, I think - humour then angst then sexual tension - but I'm getting there! Also, I had to Wikipedia the spelling of 'oorah', cause it looks wrong, but apparently this is the correct spelling... After hearing Gibbs say it in the Christmas episode this year, my brain turned to smutty goo, so I kinda had to get it in there. ;)

* * *

At around eleven that evening, as they lie in bed—talking and kissing and talking some more—Abby's cell phone vibrates on the nightstand. Gibbs passes it over as she raises her head from his bare chest, and she smiles up at him, inwardly melting at the subtle warmth in his expression.

"Let's see who wants me."

"I didn't make that clear enough?"

She laughs softly, accessing her text messages. "Tony says: 'Hi, happy V-day, thanks for the e-card. We miss you. Gibbs has gone AWOL, think he has a new girlfriend, did he tell you anything?'"

"Sloppy detective work, DiNozzo." She glances up at him to find him rolling his eyes.

"What—you actually _want_ him trying to track you down?" Why does that thought delight her so much?

"You know him. It'll be eating him up inside, not knowing where one of us is at this time of year. Call it a blind test."

"You're sneaky. I like it." She kisses his shoulder, then asks, "Why sloppy?"

"Cause he's using the call-a-friend option before he gets off his ass and actually does anything."

"Why is that sloppy and not thorough?"

Before Gibbs can reply, her phone buzzes again. She can't resist the temptation to press the vibrating object against his nipple, and he almost leaps off the bed, then growls her name in a way that makes her wriggle a little.

"Wow. Remind me to try that again later." She opens her newest text message and laughs. "Ziva. 'Thank you for the e-card, Abby—have you heard from Gibbs today?' I can just picture them all sat around in the squad room, trying to figure out where you are…"

An unexpected pang of homesickness hits her, and Gibbs seems to sense the change in her body language instantly. "You okay?" he murmurs, stroking her hair.

"Yeah. I miss them. My people. My lab. Being where you are."

"We miss you, too. Losing you was hard for all of us."

She sits up, and he throws her his shirt as the cooler air of the room makes her shiver. Gibbs is one of the only guys she can think of who would do that—hand her a shirt to warm her up when he could have given her naked breasts an eyeful instead. _Not that he didn't look, but… _

"You haven't lost me. None of you. I'm coming back to DC." She wriggles into the shirt.

Gibbs' expression isn't judgmental, but his words rile her a little. "They don't know that for sure. I didn't know that when you left. Sure, you said you'd come back, but things change when you live abroad. You meet new people, forge new ties."

Abby frowns at him. "You've lived abroad. You lived in Moscow, and you came back."

One eyebrow rises slightly. "You're gonna make me talk about Stephanie when I'm naked next to you?"

His reference to Ex-Wife Number Three only amuses her. "Fair point."

Abby's cell buzzes for a third time, and Gibbs intercepts her hand before she can do anything seriously hinky with it.

"Killjoy."

"I'm gonna bet that's McGee. You wanna tell him to text you again, so you can try and make me squirm?"

"Maybe I will." At his frown, she relents. "Okay, I'll leave McGee out of our sex life."

"Appreciated," Gibbs says wryly.

"'Hey, Abbs, happy Valentine's, miss you, wish you were here so I could show you my…' I dunno, Gibbs, maybe you shouldn't hear the rest of this one," she teases.

Before she can react, he's snatched the phone from her and is scowling at its display possessively. It shouldn't turn her on, not after all the trouble she's had with possessive men in the past, but jealousy looks really good on Gibbs.

Unable to decipher the rest of the message, he hands the phone back to her. "Oh, very funny."

"What?" she asks, making her eyes as wide and innocent as possible. Then, relenting, she continues, "It's a new graphics card for his computer."

Another message, and Abby opens it with a grin. "McGee again. 'P.S. Do you think Gibbs would kill me if I hacked into his financials? Tony won't stop bugging me to find out who his hot Valentine's date is.' Poor McGee."

"Glad I'm not there," is all Gibbs says. He plucks the phone from her hand. "They can figure it out without you."

"Did it ever occur to you to just tell them?" she asks, snuggling back into his embrace.

He's silent for a while, though still relaxed. Abby has known him long enough to know he's not about to say something she'll hate.

Finally, he says, "It's occurred. You're not my dirty little secret, Abbs. I'm not ashamed of us. But it's none of their business. They'll find out when they find out—I'm not an announcement kinda guy. You, on the other hand…"

She snorts. "Yeah, cause I'm gonna run out and tell everyone, and totally undermine your rule twelve without discussing it with you first."

Gibbs presses an affectionate kiss against her forehead. "You've never heard there's an exception to every rule? You're mine."

She shivers again, but this time it's nothing to do with being cold. "You got that right, Marine."

"Oorah," he growls, turning her face up to his for a kiss.

* * *

The days pass in a blur of sex, good-natured banter, sleep followed by more languid, decadent sex and hours curled up under the blankets or on the couch, talking and caressing and sleeping again. Abby refuses to even check what time it is, deciding that in this case, ignorance is bliss.

And it is.

When Gibbs hands her a mug of coffee and settles down by her side, though, she can tell by his body language that their time together is nearing an end. "Don't say it. I don't wanna hear you say it."

He puts an arm around her, and she leans back against him, careful not to spill her drink. He takes a sip of his, then speaks. "Then I won't say it. But you still know what I was gonna tell you."

Abby takes a gulp of coffee, hoping to chase down the lump in her throat. It doesn't work. Not trusting her voice not to crack, she nods instead.

Gibbs brushes his lips against the top of her head, but remains quiet. They sit in silence for a while, taking comfort from each other's body heat and drinking their coffee slowly.

A tear runs down Abby's cheek, but she refuses to acknowledge it. If she does, she'll just break down and cry until the world ends. A second tear follows and drops onto the back of Gibbs' hand, and now he _knows_ she's crying even though she's tried her hardest to suppress it.

He takes her coffee mug and places it, along with his, on the side table. Then he draws her into a tight embrace, pulling her onto his lap and letting her bury her face in his neck. "Breathe, Abbs."

With that indirect permission to fall apart, she releases the breath she's been holding, then draws in another in a shuddering sob. Gibbs holds her as she cries, murmuring words she can't quite make out, but doesn't need to.

When all that's left is the weight of sadness on her chest, she takes the tissues he must have known she'd need and tries to compose herself. Then, biting her lip, she looks up into his face and tries a watery smile. "Thanks for letting me get it out of my system."

Gibbs cups her face in his hands and kisses her lips lightly. She sways against him, wanting more, but he draws back with a slight shake of his head. "Ready to talk about it?"

Reluctantly, she nods. "When's your flight?"

"Around two tomorrow afternoon."

Which means he'll need to check in a couple of hours beforehand, she realises, but doesn't say. And this time, they won't be able to spend the time together at the departure gate.

"What time is it now?"

"Around eight-fifteen."

She does the mental arithmetic and winces. "It's not enough time."

"For what?"

"Everything I want to do with you. For you. To you…"

He sighs against her forehead, brushes his lips across it. "We got time, Abbs. I'm going to DC, not the moon."

Sudden, irrational terror sweeps through her. "What if you get shot while I'm still here, and you bleed out and die and I'm not there? What if you get caught in another explosion and get amnesia again and forget that we're anything more than friends? What if—"

Gibbs presses his thumb against her lips, silencing her tirade of worst case scenarios. She stares at him for a moment, wide eyed, and then bats away his hand and kisses him.

Long moments pass before they break off from the slow, affectionate embrace. When they do, Abby slides off his lap and gets to her feet. "If we only have tonight, we have to make the most of it."

At her tug on his hand, Gibbs follows her from the living room and up the stairs. She closes the bedroom door behind them and gives him her most evilly seductive look, suppressing her sadness for now. "Okay, you're gonna have to trust me, here."

"Depends what you're planning, Abbs. If you're looking for a whipping boy, you should try DiNozzo."

She grins. "Not McGee?"

"Nah. Too vanilla."

"Oh, you've slept with him, too?"

Rolling his eyes at that, Gibbs leans against the wall, his button-down shirt half-open and his hard-on getting more visible by the second against the front of his jeans. Abby curses the fact that her camera's downstairs, but contents herself with a mental snapshot she knows she'll not forget in a hurry.

"Done drooling?" he asks, pulling the shirt over his head and discarding it without bothering with the rest of the buttons.

"Are you kidding? I haven't even _started_, Gibbs." She steps closer, runs her hands over his shoulders, down his arms, then up over his abs and chest.

He winds an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against his body, then tilting her head to the side to kiss his way over her neck. "You ever gonna call me Jethro?"

"Nope," she says simply, getting to work on his belt buckle. "I've called you Gibbs for the past ten years. Why would I change it just cause we're together now?"

He buries his face in her neck, inhaling deeply, and Abby shivers at the thought that he's memorising her the way she's memorising him. "Anyway, Jethro is McGee's dog."

He laughs, pulling back to look at her. "Only cause you named him that."

"I was making yet another subtle-as-an-anvil hint that I love you. I told you he was _strong and handsome and quiet_." She'd been incredulous that he hadn't picked up on her flirtation that time.

"Want me to apologise again?" He raises an eyebrow.

"No." Shaking free of the memory, Abby strips off Gibbs' jeans, then steps out of his grasp as he makes to start undressing her. "I wanna give you a memory for all the nights we'll be spending talking on the phone, wishing we could touch each other."

"Then get over here."

She shivers at the pure want in his expression, but takes another step back instead. "Do you trust me?" she asks again.

"With my life."

The romantic in her wants to melt back into his arms, but her mischievous side wins out. She holds up one of the silk scarves he tied her up with earlier in the week instead. "Then get on the bed and let me tie you up."


	19. Unspeakable Things

**Author's Note**: If you're looking for a plot-advancing chapter, this really isn't it. ;) There'll be one next time, though! Anyway, this is nearly all smut - you have been warned. :D Many hugs and lots of love to all of you who are still reading! And yes, rule 29 is fake. I made it up for my own devious ends.

* * *

Gibbs raises an eyebrow. "I look like the kind of guy who lets anyone tie him up?"

"No – actually, you look a lot like a guy who loves control. But I'm not planning to tan your hide, Gibbs. With other guys, maybe I'd be tempted, but I really don't wanna risk getting my first headslap as soon as I untie you."

"I already told you. If I slap you, it won't be on the head."

"And that kept my fingers busy every night for a solid month… Thinking about you spanking me? Oh, my god…" Abby sighs provocatively and runs the silk scarf over her palm.

Gibbs reaches out and pulls her close, his hard-on pressing into her, making her moan. "Show me."

"Nope." She winds her arms around his neck, pressing the smooth silk against it in the process, and could swear she feels him shiver with pleasure.

"Why not?"

She kisses her way along his jawline, taking her time. "Because… you won't let me tie your hands. And I just know you'd take over before I was done if you weren't."

"And that would be bad?"

"No, Gibbs." Unable to help herself, she presses her clit right against his cock, grinding slowly against it and almost giving in to her need at the flare of arousal that spreads through her. He grips her ass tightly, pressing her harder against his body, and her voice shakes as she continues, "It'd be amazing. But if you don't watch me fucking myself all the way to the end, how will you know how I look on the other end of the phone?"

"Fuck, Abby…" He draws back and kisses every thought from her head, keeping up the pressure on her clit until she's trembling and gasping against his demanding lips. She turns her head to ease the intensity, moaning his name, and he stands back just as she's about to abandon her plan and just rub herself against his body until she comes, fully-clothed in his arms.

Deprived of stimulation, Abby sinks down onto the bed, her legs unable to support her. While she gasps for breath, Gibbs pushes his boxers down over his hips and steps out of them, and her lust flares higher at the sight of his exposed, steel-hard shaft. Before she can reach out for him, he plucks the forgotten scarf from her hand and lies down next to her. "Ready for you to tie me when you remember how to do it…"

She scowls in his direction. "Oh, you're smug now, Gunny, but just give me five minutes."

"I'd do something before then," he tells her, his voice rough with need. "Cause it's gonna take me less than five minutes to finish off if you don't do something to stop me."

As Abby watches, her head spinning with desire, he takes a firm hold of his cock and strokes slowly up and down, not taking his intense gaze from her face. Part of her longs to lunge for him, to replace his hand with her mouth, her fingers, her pussy – but she can't move. The sight of Gibbs pleasuring himself is too mesmerising to interrupt.

"That is _so_ hot."

He looks amused, completely unselfconscious, and he doesn't stop. In fact, he increases the pace a little. "You wanna sit there with all your clothes on while I jerk off on our last night together, be my guest."

His words are obviously intended to provoke her, and they do. On any other night, she'd sit and enjoy the show, maybe slide a hand into her panties and get off while she watched him get off, but tonight is all they have. She abandons her plan to restrain his hands and leans over him instead, brushing his hand away from his cock and kissing him hard.

They roll together, breathless, holding each other as tightly as they can. Somehow, Gibbs manages to strip her as naked as he is, and as he nuzzles and sucks and gently bites down on one of her nipples, Abby cradles his head in her hands, stroking her fingers through his hair.

"You're right… tonight we shouldn't hold back from each other."

He moves back up to kiss her lips again, brief, yet hard. "I want to watch you, but not as much as I want to feel you against me. Cause, Abbs, this is…"

He doesn't bother to finish the sentence, instead sucking at the sensitive spot where her neck and shoulder meet. Abby sighs and arches her body against him, rubbing her clit against the hardness of his cock.

"I know. But one day, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, I'm gonna tie you up and make you watch me do unspeakable things to myself. That's a promise."

He growls her name as she strokes him exactly the way he stroked himself. "Rule twenty-nine."

It only takes her a split-second to recall it, even in the heat of passion. "Only make promises you can keep. Kind of a hypocritical rule for a guy who's been divorced three times, isn't it?"

"Where d'you think the rule came from?"

He distracts her from further discussion with breathless, clinging kisses that make her senses reel and her pussy cry out for him. She rolls him over and straddles him without breaking away, enjoying his low groan as she slowly sinks down on his cock.

Gibbs grabs her by the waist as she begins to rise again, keeping their connection as deep as it can be. "You still wanna touch yourself for me? Do it now."

Abby is so desperate to come that the surprise of his request only lasts a fraction of a second, replaced by anticipation. "Gonna beg? You know I love it when you say please…"

His lips twitch into a slight smile that makes her want to kiss him all over again. "Please."

"Mmm… I could get used to hearing that."

"Give me some positive reinforcement and I'll consider saying it again." He gives her behind a light swat, and a ripple of delight spreads through her body.

"Yes, sir…"

She starts with her breasts, closing her eyes as she palms and cups their heavy softness, then sighing softly as she rolls and pinches her nipples. She feels Gibbs' cock twitch deep within her, and looks down to find him watching her intently.

"How am I doing?" she murmurs, reading the answer in his expression.

"If you don't start getting somewhere soon, I'm gonna have to lend a hand," he growls.

"Just a hand?" she teases, and brushes a finger across his lips before he can respond. "Lick this finger for me, Gibbs."

He does more than that, sucking the digit into his mouth and flicking his tongue over her fingertip until she shivers and shifts against him. She pulls her finger free and slides it between her already soaked labia, over her sensitive clit. "Mmmm…"

Gibbs digs his fingers into her waist, obviously making a valiant effort to stay still. She knows it's taking its toll on him and speeds up, rubbing her clit with two fingers, slick with her own juices and Gibbs' saliva.

"So good…" She's winding tighter by the second, and Gibbs feels it when she clenches around his cock. He bucks his hips up, as if that can drive him any deeper than he already is, and she half laughs, half gasps. "I don't think it counts as fucking _myself_ if you help."

He groans. "How about if you fuck yourself on my cock?"

_That_ idea has potential. "You'll have to keep still. Promise?"

"Nope. Rule twenty-nine, remember?" Gibbs takes an unsteady breath. "I can try."

She wouldn't care if he just abandoned the whole game right now and rolled her over to fuck her senseless, so a promise to try is good enough for Abby. She rises up off him completely and replaces her fingers with the head of his cock, rubbing it against her clit and crying out at the sensation. "Mmm – you wanna go back inside me?"

Gibbs doesn't reply – he's too busy gritting his teeth and trying to keep still for that. She giggles and guides him a little way into her, just enough to brush the sweet spot inside, and goes back to stroking her clit.

For a brief moment, Gibbs loses control and thrusts up, the unexpected glide of his cock deeper inside her almost sending her over the edge. "Oh, god, Gibbs…" She takes over, sliding up and down his shaft while he keeps still with an effort, his breaths shaking with need, his expression dark with arousal. With her fingers on her clit and Gibbs' cock inside her, it only takes a few seconds to reach the edge of orgasm, and she cries out sharp frustration, trying to give herself the final push into ecstatic oblivion.

Gibbs sits up and kisses her, pulling her down hard onto his cock, and she gasps out an almost silent climax against his lips, her body shaking with every wave of pleasure that breaks deep inside her. While she clutches his shoulders and loses control, he bucks up into her with a growl, riding her orgasm towards his.

He collapses back onto the bed when he's done, and she's content to sprawl over his body for a while, listening to his thundering heartbeat slowing, feeling her own pulse calm.

"Love you, Abbs."

It's the first time she's heard him say it, really say it. With Gibbs, it's usually all about the implication. He shows, rather than tells. If not for his extreme state of relaxation, he probably wouldn't have said it even now.

She raises her head to stare at him, half stunned by the words even though she's always known he loves her in some way – even back when she thought it was fatherly love he felt for her.

He gazes back with an expression that still manages to be matter-of-fact, even though it's heavy-lidded with post-orgasmic affection. "What?"

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she leans over to kiss him slow and hard, pouring everything into it.

"I didn't think I'd ever hear you say that," she murmurs when she breaks off. Suddenly overwhelmed, she rolls onto her back and sits up, drawing her knees up to her chest. "I'm not gonna make a big deal out of it. It's just words, I know that. And I would have known you feel this way even if you'd never said them, so—"

"Abbs." His interruption is soft, accompanied by the skimming of his fingers down her side. She looks over at him immediately.

"I said it. I mean it. Now quit analysing it." His slight smile softens the instruction.

With a wry grin at her own folly, she curls up next to him and buries her face in his shoulder. "I love you."

"Never doubted that." He kisses the top of her head and pulls the blanket over them. "Just wanted to say it before McGee and DiNozzo start making you doubt yourself."

She blinks up at him. "You think they're gonna have a problem?"

Gibbs shifts a little, drawing her more comfortably against him. "Same as I would, if you were dating someone else with my relationship history. They won't want you to get hurt."

Abby smiles a little. "You won't hurt me, Gibbs."

"Already have, remember? That's why you're here in the first place."

Grimacing, she shakes her head. "That was different. Do you really think they won't be happy for us?"

He sighs. "Hope I'm wrong, but you know how Tony gets with people's personal lives. And he's protective of you. You heard from him since the other day?"

She shakes her head. "Or Ziva. Or… oh, God, McGee's gonna freak." She can imagine her ex-boyfriend's hurt expression already. He's never really gotten over her, even though what they had was never more than casual fun for her.

"I guess I've been trying not to think about it. Ducky was so supportive that I just let myself believe they'd all take it well." Suddenly anxious, she gnaws on her lower lip.

"Worry about it when it happens. They might not even have realised yet." Gibbs trails soothing fingertips up and down her spine. "They'll get used to it. It's not like it changes the way we feel."

"I know," she murmurs, gradually allowing his touch to comfort her. Then, mischievously, she adds, "Remind me how you feel, again?"

He tilts her head up and kisses her in response – a much more in character show of affection for Gibbs – and Abby returns it with the same level of intensity, sighing against his lips. Saying goodbye tomorrow will be hell, and the judgments of their friends might be just as hard, but with Gibbs in her bed, it's hard to see the downside for long.


	20. Separated

**Author's Note**: Yup, it's been a while - not for lack of nagging on ncislove's part, though. ;) Merry Christmas, and have a completely unseasonal update! It's not one of my strongest chapters because I'm not really up on my characterisation - seasons 8 and 9 were a bit mediocre for me, so I stopped watching the show three quarters of the way through season 9. Apologies if I've screwed up anywhere. I'm writing and publishing original erotic fiction these days, which is usually more graphic than this, too. :D

* * *

Abby wakes slowly and buries her head in Gibbs' chest as she registers his warmth beside her. _Today is… No, don't think about it. _"I'm not awake."

"No?"

"No."

Gibbs pulls her closer, turning onto his side and enfolding her in his arms. His morning wood is obvious against her abdomen, and although she's just professed to be asleep, certain parts of her body wake up very quickly in response. The press of his naked body against hers is too enticing to ignore. He doesn't let his hands wander the way she craves, so she feigns the need to stretch in order to shift against his hard cock.

She senses his amusement in the hitch of his breath against her neck, even before he speaks. "Thought you were still asleep," he murmurs, without letting go of her.

"I am."

Gibbs skims his hand up her spine, and she shivers and wraps one leg around his hip, brushing the tip of his cock against her aching pussy. He gives a low growl of approval and thrusts against her, provoking a wave of heat that makes Abby moan an incoherent response.

"Coulda fooled me." He cups one of her breasts, teasing the nipple with his thumb, then begins to pull away from her embrace. "Too bad. I don't take advantage of women in their sleep—"

Abby grabs his ass and keeps him in place, digging her nails in just for a moment. "Okay, you win."

She opens her eyes for the first time that day to find Gibbs gazing at her with a mixture of affection and resignation on his face. This is the day he'll be leaving, and they both know it.

_Stop thinking!_ she orders her brain silently, and kisses him – morning breath be damned. He returns it without hesitation, gathering her even closer as she begins to grind against his cock again. She relishes the pressure against her clit, slow and hard – it forms just the beginning of what she already knows will be an amazing orgasm.

The head of his erection nudges the opening of her pussy and Abby reaches down to guide him inside, then wraps her legs around his waist with a cry as he rolls on top of her and fills her slowly – too slowly. She wants release _right now_, wants to reverse their positions and ride him hard and fast, but he's in no hurry, nuzzling the sensitive curve where her neck meets her shoulder as he rests his hips against hers, completely buried within her.

Abby whispers his name, running her fingers through his hair. She's on fire with need, but a part of her brain calls for the same restraint he's using – to soak in the moment and memorise everything about it. His scent. The feel of his weight pressing down on her. His heartbeat against her chest, strong and rapid.

She breathes in sync with him and time slows as she savours every inhalation and exhalation, and the occasional pulses of his hot, hard cock inside her. Gibbs trails kisses over her neck, then her face, and she opens her eyes to meet his, searching his gaze.

What she sees makes her smile and tilt her hips, seeking friction again. "I love you, too."

He gives her a half-smile that has graced her fantasies for years and begins to take her slowly, withdrawing almost entirely before slipping back into her needy depths. Abby has never been a huge fan of tender lovemaking, preferring her sex rough and full of games, but getting off has become secondary to memorising Gibbs' body and the way he reacts to her every touch.

When pleasure begins to build, it's not because of the usual frenzy of friction she's used to. It sweeps through her body in sensual, tingling waves that make her gasp and arch her back, curling her toes as she rides it out. "Oh, my god," she breathes as her pussy contracts almost lazily in spasm after spasm.

Above her, she senses Gibbs' struggle not to lose control and take what he needs to reach his own climax. "Fuck me, Gibbs," she whispers, digging her fingernails into his shoulders, and holds on tightly to him as he surges against her, fast and hard, until he spills himself with a groan of pleasure.

Abby, still resonating from the high, steals a brief, breathless kiss before collapsing against the bed, Gibbs beside her. "That was… different."

He raises an eyebrow. "Different good, or—?"

"Different amazing. God, I've never come from sex that slow before. It was like some sort of spiritual experience, you know?"

Gibbs kisses her forehead. "Can't take any credit for that. It has to be right up here." He brushes his fingers over her temple, and she closes her eyes, smiling.

"It was that, all right. But how did you know?"

"I didn't."

"Stupid question," she continues, lost in her own whirlwind of thoughts. "How do you know when to come down to my lab when I get results? How do you know when a suspect is guilty? It's the ESP again, right?"

Gibbs doesn't bother to answer – just strokes her hair. For a few moments more, her scientific mind struggles to explain what she just felt, but then she gives up and settles back into the seductive warmth of his embrace.

Idly, she looks across the room and groans when she notices the time. "No! It's past nine o'clock!"

_Two hours before Gibbs has to be ready to leave._

With a sigh, Gibbs eases away from her with one last brush of his lips over her forehead. "I'll make coffee. Stay here where it's warm."

She feels the loss of his touch keenly as he steps into jeans and shrugs on a shirt. As he leaves the bedroom, she bites her lip, torn between the afterglow of that fascinating new type of orgasm and anxiety at her impending parting from Gibbs. _Can I handle being away from him for another two months?_

* * *

**Part III: Gibbs**

As if his separation from Abby wasn't enough to put Gibbs in a seriously bad mood, the plane back to Washington Dulles contains several screaming toddlers. He takes a cab from the airport to his house, and the heavy traffic does nothing to lighten his temper. Once he's paid the cab driver's exorbitant fare, he turns towards his house and scowls.

DiNozzo is sitting on his doorstep, and from the expression on his face, a confrontation is imminent.

Gibbs sighs and heads up the driveway towards him, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "You know, you could have waited inside the house. It's not locked."

DiNozzo gets to his feet, his jaw set. "Your flight got in on time. I figured you wouldn't be too long."

_Looks like he's passed the blind test._ "You got something to say?"

"As a matter of fact…" DiNozzo moves aside to let Gibbs get to his door, still deferring to his boss when it comes to the little things, even though they're equals outside work hours.

"Can you at least wait until I've made some coffee?" Weariness overtakes him as he steps into his home and the reality of going back to his everyday existence – without Abby around, at least for now – begins to sink in.

DiNozzo follows him in, keeping his silence. Gibbs ignores him and makes the coffee, knowing better than to offer one to his senior agent without cream or sugar on hand. Tony will speak when he's ready, and when he's ready will probably be well before Gibbs is in the mood to hear his criticisms.

As if he's heard the thought, Tony speaks up just as Gibbs is pouring the freshly brewed coffee into a mug. "How long?"

Gibbs carries the coffee mug into the lounge and makes a beeline for the couch. "You're gonna have to be a little more specific, DiNozzo."

Tony stands a few feet away, his fingers curled into fists. "How long since you first got with Abby? Did you break her heart? Is that why she moved away? How long before you screw it up again and destroy her completely?"

The last question is one Gibbs has asked himself sporadically over the past couple of months, and he inwardly winces. To DiNozzo, though, he offers only a stare. "I didn't even know how she felt until she was about to fly out again after Christmas. How it goes from here is none of your damn business."

"It's entirely my damn business – she's a friend. You can see how I might be worried, given your track record and the fact that McGee never really got over her?" Tony doesn't relent.

Running a hand through his hair, Gibbs sighs. _McGee._ "How bad has he gone off the rails?"

"I spent last night watching him throw up half a bottle of Scotch. Hope you know what you're gonna say to him to stop him from handing in his resignation tomorrow."

"Ah, hell," Gibbs mutters, more to himself than to DiNozzo. He figured out weeks ago how complicated things would get once his team caught him flouting one of his own rules, but McGee's reaction seems out of proportion. He and Abby haven't been together for years – about _six_ years, if Gibbs recalls correctly.

"I mean, why Abby? Not that there's anything wrong with Abby. I mean, given the chance, I'd totally…" Tony trails off, and Gibbs is pretty sure his expression is as darkly forbidding as his thoughts right now. Abby is _his_ girl, and the thought of any other man's hands on her makes his blood boil.

DiNozzo changes tack. "What I meant to say is, she's Abby. She's the toughest woman I've ever met in some ways, but the most fragile in others. If she were dating _me_, with my track record with women, wouldn't _you_ be worried?"

Gibbs has to admit he has a point. "Noted. But the only reason she moved away was to try to get over me. If you were in my place, DiNozzo, what the hell would you do?"

DiNozzo sighs and lowers himself down on the opposite side of the couch slowly. "Fair enough. I just have to make it totally clear that if you hurt her, Boss, I'm duty-bound to beat you to a pulp."

Gibbs takes a gulp of coffee, then speaks, his voice rough from the bitterness of the liquid. "If it comes to that, Tony, you have my permission."

* * *

After a few more awkward minutes of conversation, DiNozzo excuses himself and leaves. Gibbs waits a few minutes before he heads out to grab the mail from his mailbox, and can't help but smile when he finds a package there, addressed to him in Abby's distinctive handwriting.

Once back inside his house, he rips it open to find a handmade card – abstract (unless the design holds a significance he doesn't get, which is a distinct possibility with Abby), predominantly white with black accents and only a tinge of red. It's more restrained than cards Abby's given him on previous years, which makes him raise an eyebrow. He'll never understand how certain aspects of her mind work, but he's comfortable with that fact. Most of the time, he enjoys the enigma.

Inside the card, a message is printed in her neat, all-capitalised handwriting.

_Gibbs,_

_All this time I've wanted you, and I never had any trouble with giving out Valentines. This year we're actually together, and I don't know what to say. Weird, huh? I guess it's scarier when I know you know I mean it._

_I could go on for pages, but it still wouldn't get me anywhere close to saying what I need to say. We do all our best communicating without words, you ever notice that? And I don't mean ASL. Just little touches, little looks. Smiles or frowns or just you saying my name. I miss all that, but now I know one day we'll have it back, it's easier._

_I love you, Gibbs. Happy Valentine's Day._

_Abby_

Rubbing his thumb across the card, Gibbs allows himself a moment to let Abby's presence surround him. It's more vivid than he's been able to imagine it for months, since he's just spent days and nights with her in his arms. The wave of emotion that hits him is bittersweet – love, longing and loneliness. Every sentiment Abby's written strikes a chord with him.

The feeling is so similar to how he used to feel upon receiving Shannon's letters, back when he was deployed in the Gulf, that it unnerves him. Pushing back irrational fear, he reaches for his cell phone and speed-dials Abby.

Her voice, when she answers, is warm and a little melancholy. "Hey, Gibbs. How was your flight?"

"Hell," he admits, "but nothing compared to the talk I had with DiNozzo when I got home."

He can imagine her wincing. "Bad?"

"Not as bad as what I'd have said to him if it was him you were dating." He leaves it at that, not wanting to worry her with McGee's reaction until he's had a chance to assess how they stand in person.

"Big brother Tony, huh?" There's a smile in her voice.

Gibbs grunts, recalling the gleam of disappointment in DiNozzo's eyes. "More like a guy kicking himself that his dad got to his new stepmom before he did." When Abby only giggles, obviously unsurprised, he changes the subject. "Got your Valentine package."

"Oh, really? Glad it got there." Her voice has turned coy, which has him immediately reaching for the packet the card arrived in.

"Only looked at the card so far."

"I can wait."

He senses her anticipation and his cock stirs even before he registers what he's just tipped out of the envelope. When he turns the photograph of Abby the right way up, for a second he's lost for words. "Abbs…"

In the picture, she's clad only in lacy black underwear, and even that is partially see-through. She's leaning against her bedroom wall, but not in a way that looks forced or awkward – just relaxed and unashamedly sexy, as though she's barely even noticed the camera is there.

He aches to feel her tempting body against his, even though it's not even been a day since he last felt her writhing against him in the throes of orgasm.

Abby gives a soft giggle on the other end of the line at his silence. "I know it's not quite as effective a Valentine's gift as jetting over there to see you in person, but—"

"More effective than you think." He shifts uncomfortably on the couch, gazing down at the seductive image and wondering why his first inclination had always been to date redheads when Abby had been in front of him the whole time.

"I meant to tease you with a few tattoos you hadn't seen during our first time," she continues. "Guess none of them are a surprise now, not that I'm complaining."

"Doesn't matter." He swallows a groan, resisting the urge to stroke his cock right then and there. "If I was still out there with you…"

"Oh, I know you'd already be on top of me, Agent Gibbs."

He hears a rustle on her end of the line and imagines her lying back on the bed. Smiling a little, he asks, "Where are your hands, Abby?"

"Not where I wish they were." The little sigh at the end of her words indicates that they're still somewhere he wishes _his_ were.

"Don't make me interrogate you. I do enough of that at work." Gibbs realises the inevitable is about to happen, and reaches behind him to pull his drapes shut before heading over to lock his front door against any interruptions from team members.

"And you have no idea how often I've watched you from observation, mentally getting off on it when you do it."

He returns to the couch and the image of Abby gazes up at him from the photograph on the coffee table. Between that and her words, his cock is so hard that he can't resist undoing his pants. "So where _are_ your hands?"

"One of them is under my skirt." She moans quietly, and he can imagine her eyes drifting closed, her lips parting just a little. "But I'd rather be running it down your abs and taking hold of your cock. Where are _your_ hands?"

If he closes his eyes, he can almost imagine she's there with him as he palms his own cock, gives it a light upward tug to begin with. "Exactly where you think they are."

She hums appreciation at the mental image. "Are you hard for me, Gibbs?"

"You _know_ how hard I get for you," he growls.

Her whimper is barely audible, but filled with longing. "I want you so much. You have no idea how wet I am, just from remembering…"

The memory of pushing into her warm, tight depths sends a surge of urgency through him, and he strokes himself more firmly, letting her hear his breath catch.

"Oh, my god, Gibbs, when you were lying here waiting for me to join you, just stroking yourself… I nearly melted, it made me so hot."

He'd figured as much when he'd done it – that she was so curious by nature that she was bound to be voyeuristic. "Had to get you to touch me somehow."

"I'd touch you right now in a heartbeat." He hears her shifting, followed by a gasp that makes his nerve endings sing. "Wanna hear another one of my secrets?"

"Tell me." It's an effort to speak now – his orgasm is within reach, but he holds off, reluctant to come before Abby does even though she's thousands of miles away.

"One time a while back, I was saying hi to Mike Franks and you shoved a Caf-Pow! right between us, like you were jealous I was paying more attention to him than to you. Usually guys being that possessive is kind of a turn-off, but you had this look on your face that turned my mind to mush. When I got into bed that night, I came up with this whole fantasy where you cornered me in my ballistics lab and told me it drove you crazy to see me talking to other guys, and that I was your girl, no one else's."

"You are." In the heat of the moment, Gibbs is more than willing to indulge her need to be claimed.

Her only reply is a tiny cry of pleasure, and he knows she's as close as he is. When he opens his eyes to stave off his climax, his gaze falls on the picture she mailed to him and he almost loses it. _Fuck_. "Tell me you're mine, Abby. Don't you dare come before you say it."

"I…" For a second, she falters and he's sure he can't hold on, but then she whispers, "I'm yours, Gibbs."

He can pinpoint the exact moment she falls apart – her breath comes quicker, harder, then she calls out wordlessly, letting him hear her. Picturing her writhing and twisting beneath him, he lets go, grabbing a spare shirt from one end of the couch to spend himself into.

For long moments, the connection between them is silent except for the sounds of their calming breathing. Then Abby murmurs, "I wish you were still here to hold me."

Gibbs sighs. "Me too, Abbs."

"I meant it, you know. I am yours." She sounds ever so slightly vulnerable, and he longs to brush his lips over her forehead, to tighten his arms around her.

"Damn right, you are."

"You can remind me at Easter when I fly home. If it involves ropes and spanking, so much the better."

"Count on that."

After a couple more minutes of banter, they hang up. Gibbs straightens himself up and puts a load of laundry in the machine before picking up Abby's card and photograph, then heading upstairs.

Before tucking the card and photograph out of sight of prying eyes – not that he expects anyone to make it as far as his bedroom, but maybe he is a little more possessive of Abby than he should be – he takes another look at each of them. As he re-reads what's in the card, he realises he didn't get the chance to say what he'd meant to tell her.

_We do all our best communicating without words, you ever notice that?_

"Yeah, Abbs," he says quietly to himself as he sets the Valentine in the drawer on top of her picture. "I noticed."


	21. Can't Blame You

**Author's Note**: I'm staying with ncislove at the moment, and she's nudged me into another chapter (what a shock!). Hanne, happy belated birthday and thank you for being awesome. *hug*

Oh, and for the people who have bought and read the de-Gabbified Sir/Little Tease novel (Dominance and Deception by Amy Valenti) - once again, thank you. I appreciate it. I couldn't have written that much without you guys. ^_^ There's a 25-minute audio clip read by a real life Dom with an ultra-growly voice on YouTube if you search for the book - it's not quite Mark Harmon, but I love the guy's voice anyway. *drool* I'd link to it directly but this site won't let me... as usual. Le sigh! But Google is your friend.

* * *

Despite his need to recover from his long-haul flight, Gibbs doesn't sleep well without Abby in his arms. After deciding to get into work early, he doses up on his usual strong, black coffee and heads out.

He manages to check his email once he gets to his desk – something he only attempts when it's urgent, or when none of his team members are around to see him cursing his computer. Once he's done that, he turns his attention to the memos and reports that need his attention.

He's just about up to speed when members of the day shift begin to trickle in. Gibbs keeps half an eye on the elevator, knowing McGee will soon be arriving. Ziva gets there first, though.

"Good vacation, Gibbs?" she asks with a sidelong glance.

He just nods, takes a sip of his fourth coffee of the morning. _You have no idea, Ziva._

After a second's hesitation, she comes out with it. "How is Abby?"

He gazes at her for a second, then shrugs. "She's good. Seems happy out there."

"Good." Ziva nods slowly, as if pondering her approach. "Gibbs, I think I should warn you that McGee—"

"I got it, Ziva. DiNozzo was waiting for me when I got home last night."

"Don't be too hard on him," Ziva says simply, then sits down at her desk and begins to check her email. "I saw him in the parking lot, and he does not look good."

The sound of the elevator arriving interrupts them, and Gibbs can't help but raise an eyebrow as McGee steps into view. His agent's jaw is set, his shoulders squared, and as he strides over to his workstation he avoids looking at Gibbs.

"Good morning, McGee," Ziva says.

McGee gives her a tense nod in acknowledgment, shrugging off his jacket.

_Let's get this over with._

"McGee." When Tim gives no sign of having heard, Gibbs gets to his feet. "Special Agent McGee."

McGee reluctantly looks up at him, his anger plain.

"Conference room."

Gibbs beckons, then heads towards the back elevator, which people are less likely to be using at this hour. Sure enough, the doors open immediately, and Gibbs steps inside.

Just before the elevator doors slide shut, McGee joins him, and once they're between floors, he hits the emergency stop switch before Gibbs can do it.

"I resign."

"The hell you do," Gibbs growls, turning on him.

"This isn't your decision, Gibbs. I make my own choices."

"So do I. And so does Abby."

Her name seems to take the wind out of McGee's sails entirely. His shoulders slump and he sighs. "I don't wanna have this conversation with you."

"So you're gonna run away instead?" At the pain on Tim's face, sympathy rolls over Gibbs and he calms his voice slightly. "Cause if so, you're not the guy I thought I knew."

McGee swallows hard. "You don't understand."

"You love her." Gibbs doesn't like the fact, but he knows it's the truth. "So do I."

Through gritted teeth, McGee demands, "Would you stick around if you were me?"

"Yeah."

He gives a derisive snort. "No, you wouldn't."

"I would, because in this job I can make a difference. Save lives. And you know it's the same for you, McGee."

As he watches McGee's jaw clench, his eyes fill with tears, Gibbs leans back against the elevator wall and gives him time to compose himself a little. What he just said is the truth – he'd stick it out. He's been through enough angst in his time to handle it; built plenty of boats.

He doesn't envy McGee's plight, though.

"You know, when she broke it off with me she said it was partly because of your rule twelve. That we worked together too closely and she could see the sense in it."

Gibbs mentally winces. _Now I get it._

"That wasn't the only reason, but it was… the easiest to accept." McGee runs a hand through his hair. "I always hoped you'd end up breaking your own rule, so maybe she'd… But now you are. And so is she. How about that?"

"Neither of us did this to hurt you, Tim. Any other woman, and I'd step away. But Abby…"

"Is Abby," McGee finishes when Gibbs doesn't elaborate further. "I think the thing I'm most pissed off about is that I can't blame you."

They spend a moment in silence, contemplating the woman they both love so fiercely.

"But she's coming back one day, and I don't know if I can stick around to watch you together. I need to be reassigned. San Diego, maybe."

"Like you said, I can't stop you. But for the record, I'm against it. You're one of the best agents I ever worked with, McGee." At the surprised pleasure on his agent's face, Gibbs curses his natural tendency towards laconicism. "Don't screw that up because of a knee-jerk reaction."

"Knee—?" Irritation sparks in McGee's eyes, followed closely by resignation. "Fine. I'll stay until Abby gets back. Then we'll see."

"Sounds like a good compromise."

Sighing, McGee flicks the switch, then hits the button to return the elevator to the bullpen. "For the record, I'm still pissed off at you."

"Noted." The elevator doors open, and Gibbs steps out first, throwing a parting shot over his shoulder. "And for the record, I won't hold it against you."

* * *

Time passes. It's uncomfortable at first, but as the team adjusts to the idea of Gibbs and Abby together, the atmosphere gets easier. Abby doesn't tell him if she and McGee have talked about it, and Gibbs doesn't ask. It's none of his business, and he's secure in the knowledge that Abby is long over McGee.

Gibbs misses her, and she's not shy about telling him she feels the same way. Despite that, as Spring Break – the end of March 2011 – approaches, Abby becomes harder to reach. Her phone often goes to voicemail, and Gibbs is left with the distinct impression she's up to something. Either that, or in some kind of trouble.

After three days of her having to call him back, hours after he's originally tried to reach her, his concern outweighs his resolve to let Abby tell him herself. "You sound exhausted, Abbs. What's going on?"

"Why would anything be going on?" she asks, too quickly.

He can't help his grin. "Even over the phone, you're a terrible liar."

"Fooled you for ten years," she says, sounding unoffended by the statement.

"I wasn't asking directly for ten years. Question still stands. You okay?"

The sound of her flopping down onto some variety of soft furnishing reaches his ears. "I'm fine. Just a little tired, is all."

"So tell me why."

She pauses. "Intensive research period. Lots of library time, lots of lab time. But it should calm down soon. Let's talk about something else."

Something about what she's saying strikes him as off, and he can't help but pursue the subject. "If you're in trouble, Abbs—"

"Gibbs." There's a smile in her voice, and it's only then that he relaxes. "I'm fine, really. The only trouble I'm in is with my board for overspending my research budget."

"You been buying perfume again?" He's referring to a case seven years ago, back when Abby had been trying to identify a specific brand of perfume, and had drastically depleted her yearly budget as a result.

She laughs. "You're never gonna let me forget that, are you? In fairness, it was you who gave me permission to do it." Her voice drops, becomes more intimate. "Anyway, the whole time I was going crazy because you asked me if the victim's cologne turned me on. Which it didn't, but you did."

Gibbs had forgotten, but her words bring the memory back to the surface. "Didn't you spend most of your non-perfume-testing time watching porn on that case?"

"That and half the other cases I've worked. I swear I've watched more porn than Tony, and gotten paid for the questionable pleasure."

Amused by her dry tone, Gibbs teases, "Never found something you've sent home to watch in private?"

"Occasionally." She giggles, and his pulse skips. "Anything you'd be interested in seeing when I get to your place?"

Her words ignite a sharp craving he can't deny. The idea of watching Abby as she watches porn is more than he can stand, and he groans. "Please tell me you're coming home soon."

"Flying in next Friday," she confirms.

"Then hold that thought."


End file.
